Wrong War

WRONG WAR

By Steve Orr

The title is misleading. This is not a rant about the war du jour. This is a story (and, maybe a little rant) about the care teachers should take in exercising their powers.

When my daughter was progressing through grade school she was taught by some very good teachers, a handful of excellent teachers, and the rare dud teacher. Here follows two vignettes for your consideration.

During her middle school years my daughter was required by one social studies teacher to write a longish paper for his class. In her submission, she suggested there might be some relationships between the Russian Revolution and the beginnings of World War One. When she received her paper back we found the teacher had written, in red ink, on each page of the paper, “WRONG WAR!” My daughter was so upset she could not go beyond the first two pages. However, when I read through the paper (preparing to do battle; right parents?), I carefully re-read her paper (having read it carefully before she even submitted it). I could see how she might make such a mistake, but how could WE, her loving and educated parents? ;-) When I got to the last page of the paper, I saw the teacher had assigned her a grade of “A” and had written a note, in red ink, “Ignore comments about wrong war.”

In this case, the teacher finally realized the real problem; not that my daughter was confused about which war, rather that HE was thinking of the wrong war (or possibly the wrong revolution). It turned out to provide an excellent “teachable moment” we could use to discuss things like being certain of your sources, ensuring your facts are correct, and the need to ensure that the two things being compared are not a case of “apples v. oranges.” And, though it seemed a little early for such a talk, we discussed the fact that you might have to defend your work to those that don’t understand it; a daunting task even for a doctoral candidate and an almost impossible idea for an 8^th grader to grasp. All ended well, but oh! the trauma we traversed to get there.

In high school, my daughter received back a paper on which the teacher had written the comment, “Not a word!” next to the word, “foretaste.” That in itself is very sad; sadder still is the fact that the commenter was her English teacher. I grant you, a teacher in another discipline might not know the word. I can’t remember any of my math teachers using the word. It never came up in science class. But English?! If ever there was a subject in which a teacher would exercise care with words, English is that subject.

Encarta defines the word as: “a sample or indication of what is to come.” Merriam-Webster says: “(1) a small anticipatory sample, (2) an advance indication or warning.” Perhaps this English teacher had never sung the hymn “Blessed Assurance” in church with its “foretaste of glory divine.” Even Microsoft Word’s spellchecker recognizes “foretaste” [however, a caution; that is not always a dependable source for reliance. I once typed the word “telecommute” and Word’s spellchecker did not recognize it; suggesting I might rather have meant to type “teleport.” Because, you know, so many people DO that.].

Well, by the time a student is in high school, it is a little easier to discuss the fact that there is just too much for any one person to know, and that, in this case, perhaps this teacher just had never encountered the word (!) in all her studies. It was also the moment to discuss the politics of being careful about confronting ignorant uneducated unknowledgeable people who are in a position of power over you. We had an excellent discussion about diplomacy and its uses in pursuit of an education. In short, we let it go. Some things just cannot be done (like telling an English teacher that s/he does not know the language).

Now before you take up arms and defend your favorite teacher (or all teachers), let me assure you, I believe teachers are among the most important people in our lives. As the spouse of a teacher and as the product of one of the best educational systems in the world, I have great respect for teachers. My concern is not with the teachers who show up every day and do the job of teaching our children, and it is certainly not with those teachers who excel. My concern is with those few teachers who, though not physicians, could learn a thing or two from the central theme of the Hippocratic Oath (“First do no harm’).

Should our children’s work be corrected when it is wrong? Absolutely! All I ask is this: teachers, if you are reading this, please (oh, please!) be sure before you write something in big red letters on a child’s paper. The impact of your words and actions are far greater than you may realize; and can last a lifetime, for good or ill.

And a request of you, gentle reader: do you know of other stories like the two set forth above? If so, tell me about it (them) in a comment on this piece. Thanks!