Nisha Marino
Classroom visits are a gift. In April, several teachers in Homer and Nome generously granted me five-to-ten minutes of their precious time to ask their students a series of questions; they chimed in occasionally to provide clarity or add their own opinion.
I love hearing from teachers – and I will share more about what I heard from them in a different blog post – but my favorite part of a class visit is the end, when I ask the teacher to plug their ears for just a minute. Each time, the kids lean in. Now they’re part of a secret, ready to answer whatever question comes next with honesty.
I whisper a little bit: “What makes somebody a good teacher? Who is your favorite teacher, and why?”
Everyone turns suspiciously to look at their teacher. Is she listening? Will she hear us say why we don’t like her – or worse, why we do? The teacher smiles and shrugs, maybe closes her eyes or shakes her head to prove she can’t hear anything. The kids turn back to face me and, while we once had formalities like raised hands and pair-shares, now all hell breaks loose as they rush to answer before their time is up.
The same few words are often repeated: nice, funny, and strict. But teachers have to be wary of going too far in any one direction, and some students are sure to tell me which of their teachers have room for improvement. One Homer eighth grader told me, “If a teacher is too nice they get taken advantage of, but if a teacher is too strict then no one likes them. So you have to be balanced to be a teacher.”
Other important qualities include:
“Respecting the fact that we’re not kids anymore.”
“They have to command respect.”
“We need to be able to learn.”
My favorite part of this activity is when my second question is answered. At this point, the students have established that their teacher is not listening to them. It’s safe to compliment her – and they always do. In Ms. Booz’s class, Ms. Booz is a favorite. In Ms. Shreve’s class, Ms. Shreve gets the green light. Of course, they’re not the only ones. Some eighth graders wanted me to know how much they loved their teachers from last year, or the year before, or even five years ago. A high schooler told me about her fifth grade teacher, who she still thinks about and appreciates.
It’s clear that Alaska has excellent teachers, but unfortunately, they are leaving the state and the profession. And it’s not because they don’t like Alaska. A Special Education teacher, who’s been at Nome-Beltz Middle High School for thirteen years, told me, “we don’t lose teachers because they don’t like Nome. A lot of our teachers have left the school for better paying jobs, but they stay in Nome.” Instead, teachers are leaving in search of livable and appropriate wages.
The recent Alaska Department of Early Education & Development Teacher Recruitment & Retention (TRR) survey asked educators to rank forty Personal Importance items to determine what factors teachers consider when thinking about their jobs. The five most important factors were:
Adequate compensation for assigned duties (salary)
Positive workplace conditions
Personal connections with students
Retirement benefits
Good healthcare benefits
The process of teacher replacement costs districts around $20,000 – and there are fewer and fewer people lining up for the job. The low and stagnant salaries have dire consequences for Alaska’s students, too. Across the state, students are struggling to create emotional connections with a rotating door of educators. One student told me, “Why should I put the effort into this relationship if they’re just gonna leave next year?”
This relationship between a student and teacher can be the difference between whether a kid shows up for school or not, and kids don’t always understand why their teachers leave: “I used to internalize teachers leaving, like maybe if I was a better student they would stay.”
Anyone who has the chance to step into a school and observe a class or talk to some students and teachers can tell you: Alaska has good teachers. We have great teachers. Sadly, they’re overworked, underappreciated, and most importantly, underpaid. Without a change to state funding, we will continue to lose them, with devastating consequences for our students and communities.