LibraryLady
Emeritus
Generally, I don’t rant about my job. I love my job. I get to deal with every type of person, all sorts of books old and new, and I never end a day without having learned something new. It’s great!
However, occasionally something happens that is so infuriating, so upsetting, that it just needs a rant. And this week one of those somethings happened.
Baltimore, like most other cities, has some charter schools. Some of them are quite good, and I’m impressed when the classes come to visit. Some of them, not so good. The Baltimore Independence School is horrendous. At least, from what I have seen.
Here is a snippet of their philosophy statement:
This school first came to my attention in the fall, when during the school day, I noticed a group of school age children wandering about the building. I asked one of our security officers if we were having a school visit. I’m usually notified about them, and give tours and presentations. We have a strict truancy policy, so if they were not with a school, it needed to be looked at. He said the class was here with a teacher from Independence School. I saw no teacher with them, which puzzled me.
The weeks went by, and I continued to find the kids all over the place. No teacher. I found the kids necking in the stacks, which isn’t so terrible, unless the attentions are unwanted, or the act escalates into lewd behavior. The library really should not be a place to get STDs or pregnant. I found them sprawled on the floor, dancing in the halls, playing ball. None of these are really library activities. I spoke to my supervisor who said she was aware of the situation and there was nothing we could do.
I asked the kids what they were supposed to be working on, and they said they had no assignments. I doubted their word until I looked at the Web site. Finally, one day, I asked where the teacher was. I had never seen the guy. “He’s downstairs drinking coffee,” one of the kids volunteered. I got someone else to watch the desk, and went marching down to the coffee shop. There were a number of people having their coffee. I asked if anyone was a teacher with a class, and a man who was absorbed in a book and drinking a latte, looked up. “What are they doing now?” he wanted to know. “They are unsupervised, that’s what they are doing. You need to be with them.” He rolled his eyes and got up. He came to my department, rounded up the kids, and I didn’t see them again that day.
Last week, our Young Adult specialist emailed me and asked if I was willing to lead a tour from that school. I was delighted to hear that they were actually doing something constructive, and agreed. Yesterday they came. With the latte drinking teacher. He announced that they are doing assignments about love in Shakespeare.
I led the 9 kids (7 girls 2 boys) up to the Shakespeare section to introduce them to the plays, audio, and books we have there. A minute or so into my talk, one young man piped up. “Can I ask a question? Why is it called ‘Shakespeare?’ Why isn’t it just called ‘poetry?’ Nonplussed for a second, I said, “Well, you know, because a man named Shakespeare wrote the plays and the poems, right?” The kids looked at each other in surprise. They had no idea Shakespeare was the name of a man and they were full of questions.
“Where does he live?”
“He doesn’t live anywhere now, he’s been dead for 500 years.” (Pause while they absorb the shock) “I’ve been to his house, though, and I’ve visited his garden and where he’s buried.”
“For real?”
It took a few minutes for me to convince them that I was not just kidding. In the meantime, Mr. Latte is at the back of the group, looking bored.
There were two kids, one girl and one boy, who were actually really interested in what I was saying. When I mentioned that my favorite Shakespeare play is The Tempest, Nayesha, the girl, insisted on getting a copy of it to read. The boy didn’t really show any interest right then, but after the class left, he snuck back. He didn’t want to lose face by looking like he actually had a little intellectual curiosity. I gave both of these kids my card and told them to call me and I would give them personal tours.
On his way out, Mr. Latte mentioned to me that he had been a Comparative Literature major. I guess that makes him just too good to actually impart any of his knowledge to these kids.
I’m betting their parents are actually pleased they are in this school and are under the impression that they are being educated.
I cannot call the superintendent of the school system because I would be speaking as a member of my organization. I talked to my supervisor, my sister, and various other people, and they all agree, I’d be slitting my own throat by doing so. I am not in the greatest position right now, and I guess there is such a thing as self-preservation.
I can only hope that Nayesha and the young man actually will contact me and that perhaps I can help them learn a little something. The fact that they now know that Shakespeare was a man who lived 500 years ago and whose words still live today is a start.
However, occasionally something happens that is so infuriating, so upsetting, that it just needs a rant. And this week one of those somethings happened.
Baltimore, like most other cities, has some charter schools. Some of them are quite good, and I’m impressed when the classes come to visit. Some of them, not so good. The Baltimore Independence School is horrendous. At least, from what I have seen.
Here is a snippet of their philosophy statement:
This school first came to my attention in the fall, when during the school day, I noticed a group of school age children wandering about the building. I asked one of our security officers if we were having a school visit. I’m usually notified about them, and give tours and presentations. We have a strict truancy policy, so if they were not with a school, it needed to be looked at. He said the class was here with a teacher from Independence School. I saw no teacher with them, which puzzled me.
The weeks went by, and I continued to find the kids all over the place. No teacher. I found the kids necking in the stacks, which isn’t so terrible, unless the attentions are unwanted, or the act escalates into lewd behavior. The library really should not be a place to get STDs or pregnant. I found them sprawled on the floor, dancing in the halls, playing ball. None of these are really library activities. I spoke to my supervisor who said she was aware of the situation and there was nothing we could do.
I asked the kids what they were supposed to be working on, and they said they had no assignments. I doubted their word until I looked at the Web site. Finally, one day, I asked where the teacher was. I had never seen the guy. “He’s downstairs drinking coffee,” one of the kids volunteered. I got someone else to watch the desk, and went marching down to the coffee shop. There were a number of people having their coffee. I asked if anyone was a teacher with a class, and a man who was absorbed in a book and drinking a latte, looked up. “What are they doing now?” he wanted to know. “They are unsupervised, that’s what they are doing. You need to be with them.” He rolled his eyes and got up. He came to my department, rounded up the kids, and I didn’t see them again that day.
Last week, our Young Adult specialist emailed me and asked if I was willing to lead a tour from that school. I was delighted to hear that they were actually doing something constructive, and agreed. Yesterday they came. With the latte drinking teacher. He announced that they are doing assignments about love in Shakespeare.
I led the 9 kids (7 girls 2 boys) up to the Shakespeare section to introduce them to the plays, audio, and books we have there. A minute or so into my talk, one young man piped up. “Can I ask a question? Why is it called ‘Shakespeare?’ Why isn’t it just called ‘poetry?’ Nonplussed for a second, I said, “Well, you know, because a man named Shakespeare wrote the plays and the poems, right?” The kids looked at each other in surprise. They had no idea Shakespeare was the name of a man and they were full of questions.
“Where does he live?”
“He doesn’t live anywhere now, he’s been dead for 500 years.” (Pause while they absorb the shock) “I’ve been to his house, though, and I’ve visited his garden and where he’s buried.”
“For real?”
It took a few minutes for me to convince them that I was not just kidding. In the meantime, Mr. Latte is at the back of the group, looking bored.
There were two kids, one girl and one boy, who were actually really interested in what I was saying. When I mentioned that my favorite Shakespeare play is The Tempest, Nayesha, the girl, insisted on getting a copy of it to read. The boy didn’t really show any interest right then, but after the class left, he snuck back. He didn’t want to lose face by looking like he actually had a little intellectual curiosity. I gave both of these kids my card and told them to call me and I would give them personal tours.
On his way out, Mr. Latte mentioned to me that he had been a Comparative Literature major. I guess that makes him just too good to actually impart any of his knowledge to these kids.
I’m betting their parents are actually pleased they are in this school and are under the impression that they are being educated.
I cannot call the superintendent of the school system because I would be speaking as a member of my organization. I talked to my supervisor, my sister, and various other people, and they all agree, I’d be slitting my own throat by doing so. I am not in the greatest position right now, and I guess there is such a thing as self-preservation.
I can only hope that Nayesha and the young man actually will contact me and that perhaps I can help them learn a little something. The fact that they now know that Shakespeare was a man who lived 500 years ago and whose words still live today is a start.
)... wow.
