After student teaching in public schools for several weeks, I've become even more disillusioned by "teaching to the test."

Before even delving into testing, let's talk about standards.  It's good to have standards...when they're reachable.  To expect every 12th grader to read 25 books outside of class is lunacy.  And it's nice to have a list of literature to choose from...when you can still add your own.  These are not guidelines: they are restrictions.  If I think a particular short story will work well with a unit, I'm not encouraged, as a public school teacher, to use it unless it's on that microscopic list of material.  There's little chance to be creative or spontaneous.

As for testing, the higher-ups think it's an effective monitoring and evaluating tool, but teachers know that it's not.  Importance of material is measured by whether or not it will be on the test, not how it will develop the minds of students.  The end goal of education is now to regurgiate information to the satifaction of the Board of Ed, not to learn for learning's sake.

In fact, learning itself has been redefined--developing the ability to know facts rather than to developing the ability to think.  Education has become a thing of the brain, not a thing of the mind.

Unfortunately, I often feel the same way about college.  Sometimes I wonder if I've ever actually learned anything in my four years here.  Instead, I feel like I've bought my degree, not worked my way toward it.  The real learning I've done has been from conversations I've had in dorm hallways and in faculty lounges.

I swear I remember school being different...I used to think...in one of my classes...years ago...

Someone recently asked me why I want to get my MFA in creative writing.  It's not something practical, I was told, not something that would benefit other people.  I responded that literature is important, which was met with laughter.

If no one wrote, what would we remember civilizations by?  How would be know about their culture, what people felt, what they went through?  What would I have done throughout middle school when characters in novels were real enough to me that I felt like I had friends who understood what I was feeling.  They experienced the same things, different things, harder situations, more exciting situations.  What would I have done all those years instead?  Connected with characters on a television screen while my literacy plummetted?

I have been told before that I am wasting my time studying literature.  It's not real, people say, you're studying lies that someone could illustrate vividly.  But is it really lies?  The emotions aren't lies.  Somebody somewhere can identify with each piece, I'm sure.  And how else would I know how to read and write, to communicate well with the world, without years of reading and writing?

By the same token, what would be the worth of any art?  Or philosophy?

Perhaps the effects on humanity are not instant in the world of the arts.  But what is life without taking the time to imagine, to create, to think, to ponder, to wander around in a whole other world for just a little while?   We're not automatons; we're not meant to work night and day doing tedious things to push humanity into the technological future.  Those occupations have their place, but the arts are the lifeblood behind them.

I still hold that literature is important, and it is not a waste of time for me to learn more about the art I excel most at.  Through a young adult novel, I could reach out to teens in a totally different way than I will by teaching.  And, by writing, I will keep my sanity.

Well, I have now officially started my teaching internship!  My schedule blows...royally.  But I love kids!  (They're eighth-graders.)

Yeah, so I'm at work right now, but our boss isn't here.  So all chaos has broken out.  We've decided to spread the rumor that our boss is out because she's on trial for murder.

As for the progress on my novel, my professor told me today that Chapter One is of publishable quality, and I should keep writing.  So I'm psyched.

It's a beautiful day, like paradise.  Blue skies, puffy white clouds, leaves changing and skittering across the ground in the breeze.  (Too bad I'm on crutches.  And inside at work until 6:00.  Ugh.)

I'm not sure what's happened, but I've finally transitioned from being melancholy about leaving school in May to being excited.  Perhaps it's because I'm living off campus, or maybe it's because I am feeling more ready to teach.  Either way, I'm glad I have until May to still be here with all my friends, but I think I'll be ready when the time comes.

I love looking to the future and seeing many vague paths.  It's a new feeling for me actually, since I've had my life planned ahead of me for a long time.  But, since things have changed over the past few months, I don't know where I'm going, except for teaching in my home state for a number of years to pay back scholarships with service.

Well, that's it for now because I've got work.  I was hoping to write more...maybe tomorrow...