Exit Narratives by Wamba Nathalis G.;Foster Ursula;Davis Elena;Jones Jackquelynn;Storck Barbara;

Author:Wamba, Nathalis G.;Foster, Ursula;Davis, Elena;Jones, Jackquelynn;Storck, Barbara; [Wamba]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University Press of America, Incorporated
Published: 2010-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Cliques!

Beware of cliques; they are insidious and seductive. They keep colleagues divided. They are obviously not inclusive, and therefore not respectful.

In my teaching life, I was always a maverick, pretty weird, on the cutting-edge of pedagogy. Most people in the school community did not know what to do with me. I was a threat to many people’s pedagogic belief systems. I liked to shake up the thinking, upset the status quo. I was a consummate advocate for the children. I lived an alternate lifestyle. In a nutshell, folks were afraid of me. I might rub off on them. I was new to the school (where I inevitably happily remained for seventeen years) that already had a well-established village system. I quickly earned respect as a motivating and caring teacher. In my first year there, I taught two of the senior teachers’ daughters. They gave the stamp of approval to this new yet experienced teacher’s innovative and successful if unconventional style.

But I was always something of a misfit. I did not play the existing political games. I challenged old practices, e.g., yelling at children, size order line walking, gender line walking, gender roles (we need two strong boys to help carry books), quiet in the hall, expanding the classroom into the corridor (after all, I was the original Open Corridor teacher).

Over the years, I gained much respect. Slowly, a small cadre of like-minded teachers recognized each other, a band of parents started to appreciate and understand my style. The circle of parents and families continues to grow farther and wider than the pedagogic community, to this day. I often hear from friends and colleagues in the school community how they bumped into someone on the street, store, or bus and after beginning to talk about their children, the talk would come around to “Hey, you know Elena too.”

But, back to the cliques. Unfortunately, even though I was treated with kindness and respect, rarely, was I asked out to lunch with the “girls” on half days, the girls being any small group of teachers that regularly met together socially in or out of school. Then, there would be the many awkward moments over the years when I would walk into a neighborhood restaurant with a friend during an extended lunch time, only to come upon the girls, some of whom had already made excuses about where they were eating, or planned their rendezvous in whispers in the lobby before we were released for lunch. In Brooklyn and the Bronx, we call that “behind your back in front of your face.” Often in these restaurant groups, there would be some teachers who sometimes ate with me alone or in smaller groups; they would have the pained look of oops, the sad smile of I’m sorry but I am a sheep.

Then there were times in the last two years when my partner who was teaching with us and was included in one of the groups would be invited to various lunches, after-school, and weekend events and I would not be included.

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