Do you remember your first favorite teacher? I do. She made me feel like I could do anything and that I was destined to make a contribution to this world. I mattered in her class. It would not be until almost 20 years later that I would truly understand what made her great.
The first two and half months of my teaching career were days without nights. Each morning, I left my studio apartment in Baltimore City just after 5 a.m. and took a two-plus hour bus ride to Dundalk, where I taught, often grading along the way. I managed to make it into class just before my students. Later, I would bundle a stack of newly gathered papers under my arm and wait in the summer heat for the bus home, returning to my apartment about 6:30 p.m. only to start work again, grading more papers.
I loved it.
To see light-bulbs go off in a student's eyes after a meticulously planned lesson works is rapture! But it was in the bus-rides and in the back-aches that I really understood my high school teacher. Every smile she gave belied her struggles. There is honor in that. Survey after survey ranks teaching as one of America's most respected professions. But how many really know the sacrifice it takes to teach just one child well?
It takes a life.
My story contains two near-nervous breakdowns and numerous shirts grazed by pencils, but it is not unique. Teachers who love children commit to it for life. Our commitment always goes beyond a day, year and often-times career (most teachers retire — to teach again). When we are at our best, we combine proven praxis with a desire for heart level connections with children, sincere interest in their lives and unyielding passion for their safety and success. This commitment, however, is often on shaky ground.
Do you remember the most recent teacher scandal? Or your first worst teacher? I do. It reflects poorly on all of us, every time. The prevailing notion is that the teacher you are thinking about now and the teacher from the beginning of this article are actually different teachers. However, without a set of guiding principles shared by all educators, the first teacher could very easily become the second.
We need a code of ethics.
Swiss writer Denis de Rougemont once said that "love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god." A code of ethics then, takes our passion, desire and commitment from lofty and ethereal realms to a plain and practical place where our diverse backgrounds and beliefs don't predominate the professional principles that should be common to us all. This code is an agreement that honors our sacrificial commitment by creating a common language and understanding of the promise we give to every single child and their family the moment we assume the role of teacher. Within this framework, the under-service of black and brown children becomes more than immoral — it becomes unethical. By defining our norms, this code can guide a diverse teaching force through dilemmas and situations where boundaries can be blurred through the lens of upbringing and good intentions. The code is what could help our first favorite teacher stay that way. In fact, if we are to consider ourselves a true profession on par with doctors and lawyers, we need a code of ethics.
Ten years after I began teaching, my mind floats back to those early days. Do I still operate with that same commitment? I have listened to countless educators express that the increase in testing, over-reliance on student data and injection of politics has squeezed their commitment dry. We now listen to people who have never felt the joys and pains it takes to teach children well tell us how broken our life's work is.
We are tired.
Despite these outside forces advancing upon this great calling, I believe there's hope. We start taking back the conversation over our work by seeing ourselves as true fiduciaries in the field of learning and establishing a code of ethics, allowing us freedom to self-govern if necessary and collaborate on the least acceptable standard of excellence that will honor our life-long commitment.
Josh Parker, a compliance specialist in the Office of Title I in Baltimore County Public Schools, is the 2012 Maryland Teacher of the Year. His email is jparker5@bcps.org.