I got dressed today. I had an incredible desire to feel like nothing’s changed. Like - if I got dressed, I could go to school. Grab a coffee. Talk to my friends. Start the day and see my favorite teenagers. Talk to all of them - laugh and make jokes. Talk about all the things we’re doing to keep ourselves sane. I would tell them how proud I am of them and the ways they’ve carried themselves this year and how the love they’ve given hasn’t gone unnoticed. 

I got dressed today. I thought I could magically see them in person and not through a screen. I wanted to feel close to them. To feel like everything would be as it has been. To feel encouraged. To feel normal. To see for myself that they’re taking care of themselves and not saying only what they think I want to hear. To tell them an overly embellished story just so I can hear their laughter. 

I got dressed today because I know this isn’t normal, but I’m starting to feel like it is. Maybe if I get dressed and make my own coffee and sit down at my makeshift desk, then everything will feel better. The truth is, I’ve been unintentionally hiding how much I miss my students. I’ve suppressed the feeling so far down that it’s now bubbling just underneath the surface and I feel as if I may burst. Some days - days like today - I’m broken and just want to make sure my students are okay. Because, the truth is: I’m not. And that’s okay.
 
I got dressed today and had to go to the building. I stood in my classroom. Coffee in hand. Mask on my face. The walls are the same. ACT tests sit askew in desk baskets - carelessly tossed and abandoned, ready to be picked up to be used, but ultimately forgotten. I started taking my books off my shelves to bring home so they don’t warp in the humidity. I pulled a book off the shelf and remembered a student telling me she wanted to read a “good” story but didn’t know what that was. It took us until December to find her a book she could actually finish and she was so happy she finally finished a book and actually liked reading. I had many genuine conversations with students about books and what words actually mean when they impact our lives. We talked about pain. About death. Love. Relationships. The anticipation of Summer and little responsibilities. Now, I’m dressed. Sitting at my desk. Staring at 35 empty desks. And it’s time to say goodbye. 

So. Here it is. A message to my students: I’m proud to call you mine. I have felt like the luckiest teacher this year - the bad days included. I’ve seen you show love. I’ve seen you come out of the darkness. I’ve seen you grow. I’ve seen you continue breathing and moving, even when you didn't want to. You are funny and strong and resilient. I’m a better teacher - and person - for knowing you. Thank you for your moments of vulnerability and for trusting me to lead you. I can’t wait to see you again in person.

Tessie Curran currently teaches at Moore High School and serves as a sectional officer in charge of new teachers for OKCTE.

Stories are vital to the English Language Arts curriculum. They are more than just words on a page. Each letter, each syllable, and each line encompass life lessons that the characters transfer from the page to the reader. Students need to read and learn about The Tragedy of Romeo & Juliet to understand how a play so old can still transcend time and remain relevant today. Students need to read and learn about The Odyssey, so they can understand how a common man can overcome insurmountable odds: the same odds I see my students face every day in my classroom, the same odds I know they will face once they leave my classroom, and the same odds I know they can overcome due to what I give them in my classroom. Sometimes, the best stories are not the ones we read, but they are the ones we create.
 
The first essay we do in my English class is the narrative essay. This is usually the first time my students have ever seen an essay. I give my students a model of the essay I want them to write: a four paragraph essay about my struggles and my accomplishments. We dissect each sentence of the essay and identify what each sentence does. When finished, I give my students an outline to guide them and their writing. They type up their essays of their struggles and accomplishments and email them to me when they are finished.
 
Teaching is not a job. Teaching is a profession. As a teacher, I am expected to be a professional with my students at all times. The line gets blurred whenever I teach, for I have found that teaching is so personal at times. Sharing my own essay about my own struggles and accomplishments is personal. It allows my students to see me, not the teacher, in a different light. When I read their narrative essays, it allows me to see them, not the students, in a better light. They see a teacher who is not always right, but they see a teacher who struggles and perseveres just like they do. I see students who may not always be as passionate about the English Language Arts as I am, but they are passionate about other things. They should be. The stories we create and share with one another allow us to be authentic with one another: these stories are the best ones.
 
In a world where we get bombarded with images that may not always represent life accurately, teachers must be as authentic with their students as much as possible. Our classrooms may be the only place where students engage with authenticity. Creating stories and sharing them with one another allows us to be authentic. When we create our own stories with conviction, we not only teach, but we inspire. Our own stories help our students grow. Their own stories help us grow.
 
Mr. Chong Lor has been an English teacher at Jones High School for the past two years. He also served as our OKCTE Young Writers Contest Coordinator this past year. Prior to teaching, he served in the U.S. Army for eight years. His hobbies include writing, creating music, reading, and playing guitar. He plans to continue teaching but overseas in the near future.

I’m not sure who told me this valuable piece of wisdom early in my career, but it has served as a central piece of my pedogeological framework. I used to see it only in terms of classroom management. If I permit students to turn in late work, I am promoting being unaccountable. If I permit students to sleep during instruction, I am promoting that participation is not vital. While these are important, I need to remember the hidden messages I send when I make decisions of what will and will not happen in my classroom.

Educational theorists like Henry Giroux and Ruby Panye have outlined hidden curriculum and rules that are inherent in education. As a teacher, I am given a tremendous power to promote what I feel is important for the next generation to learn.  If schools are to serve as a place where socialization and experiential education can take place, I need to use that power to ensure diversity and inclusion flow naturally within our learning. Below are some of the things that I work hard to permit within the classroom.

• If I permit literature that reflects a diversity of culture, I am promoting humanity. In American literature – which I teach – it would be easy to focus on mainstream classics – Hawthorne, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald – but that means I am telling my students that only white authors in American literature are worthy of reading. By intentionally selecting literature from a variety of cultures – Momaday, Tan, Cisneros, Ellison, Leviathan – I promote experiencing and learning about microcultures not of our own. If the lessons only reflect the majority, I am depriving students of finding the mirror that reflects them in literature that we share.
  
  
• If I permit discussion of world religions, I am promoting tolerance of other faiths. Folding faith into schools can be a tricky thing, but just because it takes considerable effort to do it right, doesn’t mean we should avoid it. While our country is mainly Christian, the melting pot that is America continues to become a larger intersectionality for forms of faith each year. Researching other religions or asking students of different faiths to share their own experiences and is a good way to start this conversation. Teaching understanding of different religions doesn’t mean advocating them, just simply promoting tolerance and respect for those who believe differently.
  
  
• If I permit welcoming a variety of gender and sexual identities, I am promoting acceptance. Identity development is hard enough without having to feel as though your own expression is restricted. Those who find themselves questioning their sexuality or gender can feel like they are alone and unwelcome in a world that promotes heterosexuality and strict gender norms. LGBTQ students are one of the most oppressed groups in public education, so finding ways to include discussion of sexuality and gender fluidity can help build acceptance and identify allies.
  
  
• If I permit students to share and learn in multiple modes, I am promoting understanding exceptionalities. We might not be good at everything, but we are all good at something. However, amid the increasing standardization of public education, those who are unable to express their strengths through a multiple-choice format can feel as though they are less that their peers. Students need to be taught using a variety of instructional modes – auditory, visual, kinesthetic, etc. – but they also need to express their understanding in an assortment of ways. Implementing multimodal lessons and activities can help students shine in ways that traditional paper and pencil cannot, and promote that being different is not the exception but the rule.
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In this same vein, I also need to remember teachers serve as role models for their students. In many instances, educators are the only positive adult influence students interact with consistently. Whether I like it or not, everything I do as a teacher can potentially be internalized by students as condoned behavior. So, if I promote myself as being uneducated about the different microcultures my students belong to, I are promoting that it is okay to remain within my own ignorant bubble. If I permit my students to remain uneducated or have their assumptions about those who are uniquely a part of our world remain unchallenged, I promote building walls and segregating the world. There are already enough ways to divide people, I’d rather spend my time permitting students learn to accept their peers as they are by promoting love, compassion and tolerance as the tools to begin to tear down those walls. 

Angel Worth is a graduate of The University of Oklahoma. She is in her first year as a freshman English teacher, and she decided to attend the Summit to engage in meaningful dialogue and better understand those who support “school choice.”

Into the Lions’ Den
 
This past Thursday, the Oklahoma School Choice Summit and Expo was held at Oklahoma City Community College. The summit began at 4:00, and after ushering straggling students out of my classroom, grading a handful of late papers, and prepping the next day’s lesson plan, I strode out of the high school brimming with both fire and fear.
 
Upon arriving at OCCC, I sat in my car for a full fifteen minutes, staring through the windshield at the signs directing the public to the Performing Arts Center. I’m a first year teacher, so feeling out of my depth is no rarity for me. However, the feeling that gripped me as I walked up the sidewalk and into the summit was a different kind of displacement. I’d never really considered the phrase, “into the lion’s den,” until I stumbled over my name at the check-in table and allowed a young, smiling woman to slip a yellow band around my wrist. Dozens of people stood across the lobby. Most were dressed in tailored business suits and dresses, and nearly all wore a yellow scarf draped around their necks. The scarves were handed out as people checked in, but because I did not register in advance, I was not offered one.
 
After looking over the itinerary I had picked up at the check-in table, I picked the three breakout sessions I was interested in attending, and I made my way to the adjacent building.
 
Charter School “101”
 
Brent Bushey, the Executive Director of Oklahoma Public Resource Center, facilitated the “Charter School 101” session. Bushey is a tall, but soft spoken man. He wore a wrinkled navy blue suit, and he shuffled from one foot to the other while clasping and unclasping his hands throughout his presentation. Using charter school jargon, Bushey explained the process for how charter schools are opened, and in the last twenty minutes of the session, Bushey opened the floor to questions.
 
I searched the room for a friendly face, trying to identify if there was a Public Education ally in the room, but I was alone. The slogan on the banner at the back of the room caught my eye, “Every Child. Every Choice. Every Chance.” I took a shaky breath and raised my hand to ask for clarification on concerns I’ve heard echoed throughout the Public Education community.
 
“How do charter schools budget the money that the state allocates to them, and how transparent is that budget?” I asked. I could hear my own voice quavering. After stating that charter schools are tracked the same way public schools are, Bushey shared a surprising statistic.
 
“50-70% of charter schools that are closed are closed due to financial problems,” he said.
 
“So charter schools close most often due to financial mismanagement?” The words had left my mouth before I could bring them back.
 
Bushey shuffled, “It’s less an issue of mismanagement and more so financial incompetence.”
 
Perhaps to Bushey incompetence sounds better than mismanagement, but, as an English teacher, I couldn’t help but be appalled at the connotation associated with a word like incompetence. Is it supposed to be comforting that charter schools across the nation are shut down because they’re too incompetent to properly write a budget? Meanwhile, in Oklahoma, public schools across the state continue to function as their budgets are slashed and their funds are bleeding because of the “incompetence” of our state legislature to do the same thing. That’s a difference between public and private schools that is worth noting: in the face of anything, public schools have the resilience and commitment to their students to keep their doors open.
 
Emboldened, I asked another question, “When comparing public, charter, and private schools, the concept of attrition is almost never acknowledged on behalf of charter and private schools. As a public school teacher,” I glanced around the room, “I feel like there are several steps taken before a student is removed from public school. Charter schools have much higher attrition rates, which makes me wonder what process do charter and private schools follow to have students removed from their programs? And what liberties do charter schools take in admitting students with learning disabilities and disciplinary issues?”
 
Pivoting away from the topic of attrition, Bushey instead decided to address the latter half of the question. Bushey identified himself as a past teacher of students with disabilities and also as a father of a daughter with Down Syndrome. He shared an anecdote of his experience when he first moved to Oklahoma. He called a charter school to see if they would accept his daughter, and they said yes. He then asked them if they had a Special Education program, to which they said no.
 
“This is where it becomes a matter of school choice,” Bushey said. “I could have sent my daughter to that charter school, but instead I chose a school that was the best fit for her.”
 
What I got out of Bushey’s story was that a charter school was willing to accept his daughter despite not having the necessary program to ensure her success, which begs the question: what are IEP and 504 programs like at charter and private schools? Are these schools in compliance with IDEA? Do these schools know what IDEA is? *cough cough DeVos*
 
Advocacy for School Leaders
 
Before I could ask anymore, the session was over, and I was on my way to a session called “Advocacy for School Leaders.” The session was facilitated by Matt Ball of CMA Strategies and former Representative Hopper Smith of Strategic Resource Consulting. The goal was to teach those present how to elevate those in favor of school choice from “passive stakeholders” to “active advocates.”
 
Outside of Matt Ball referencing Waiting for Superman as an informative source on charter schools, what caught my attention most took the form of an older man named Charlie Daniels, who I later found out is the Vice President of the Opportunity Scholarship Fund. With both Senator Pederson (District 19) and Senator Rader (District 39) in attendance, Daniels provided scathing criticism of local school boards.
 
“The school board is the captive of administration,” Daniels said. “Most of them are sinkers; you cannot change their mind with a bomb.”
 
A few moments later, Daniels went on to say, “You’ve gotta go beyond the local school board. They’re going to be your enemy.”
 
It was at this point that Hopper Smith became visibly uncomfortable as he nervously laughed and claimed that “enemy is a strong word.” Daniels went on to tell about a time that he spent a day at the Capitol going from office to office of elected officials. He said that one time, he stopped in at a legislator’s office whose district Daniels was not a part of. Daniels told the legislator that he should vote in favor of whatever school choice bill was on the docket that session, and the legislator responded by saying, “Thank God. I’ve been getting hundreds of phone calls from Public Education people all day, and now if I vote for this I can say I’ve got some cover.”
 
It’s good to know that our legislators will disregard the voices of hundreds of constituents in favor of one person’s opinion if it serves the legislator’s own self-interest. In case the legislator has forgotten, their jobs exist to serve their constituents. Their jobs do not exist to serve themselves.
 
Moving on.
 
Communities of Color Panel
 
The next session on the list was one called “Communities of Color Panel.” Before entering the room, however, I had an informative mini-session in the form of a conversation I overheard between former State Superintendent of Education Janet Barresi and keynote speaker Dr. Steve Perry.
 
I initially became aware of the conversation when the words “Betsy DeVos could be good for us,” came out of Barresi’s mouth, but my favorite part of the conversation was when Barresi complained about the “quality of educators that colleges of education are producing.”
 
Dr. Perry guffawed loudly and replied, “That whole sentence is an oxymoron.”
 
It took everything in me not to step forward and identify myself as a public school teacher. Instead, I took deep breaths, pictured the goddess of education that is current Superintendent Joy Hofmeister, and followed Barresi into the next session.
 
The communities of color panel was comprised of Dr. Steve Perry, Phillip Gover of Sovereign Schools Project, and Marilinda Garcia of the Libre Initiative. I most looked forward to this session because I wanted to see how the panel addressed the research that suggests charter and private schools compound the issue of systemic racism. Instead, Dr. Perry said in his opening statement, “We are taking a system that was designed in 1635 that was designed to keep certain communities apart...and has so effectively done it, that it almost seems natural.” Dr. Perry went on to suggest that teachers are the hostages of unions to which we pay our ransom (union dues), and that the public school system is too traditional and racist.
 
Now, I acknowledge that there is inequity in the public school system. Schools that are located in areas of dense poverty are attended by predominately students of color, and these schools often have lower graduation rates. However, the solution is not to open up charter schools so that portions of the student bodies in lower-income schools are pulled out. What about the students who are left behind? The students who don’t make it off the wait list? They’re left to attend a school that has even less funding. In Oklahoma City, in particular, these students would be left in classrooms that are filled with unqualified and uncertified teachers because of a massive teacher shortage. The solution to this problem is not to open more schools, it’s to fund the school that stands, starting with teacher salaries, to ensure quality teachers are present to provide a quality education. As much as the summit reiterated that the student is the most important part of education, they must recognize that students’ education starts with their teacher.
 
Before the last session dismissed, the room was notified that a protestor, allegedly, pulled the fire alarm in the theater to prevent the second part of the program from happening. Dr. Perry laughed joyously at this.
 
“I’ve been to a lot of cities, man,” he said. “And ain’t no city where they’re pulling fire alarms. To those protestors: you showed us that we hurt you by hollering. Keep hollering because we’re going to hurt you some more.”
 
This was met with whoops and hollers as those in the room stood to begin their walk back to the Performing Arts Center.
 
Main Program
 
It just so happened that I was behind Janet Barresi on the way back to the Performing Arts Center, so I was lucky enough to see her reaction when we reached the doors to find dozens of pro-Public Education people standing in line, waiting to be admitted to the summit.
 
Barresi rolled her eyes and shared a look with the woman who had been accompanying her, and they pushed their way through the line to get into the lobby. As I had already checked in, I followed.
 
When I reached the front of the line I realized that those who were waiting to check-in were being turned away. Most of them clutched Event Brite registration confirmation tickets in their hands, and one man at the front of line began to get irate.
 
I asked one of the summit event’s coordinators why the group of people waiting to get in were being denied access to the public event. He claimed that those organizing the summit had caught wind of a protest group on Facebook, and so they cross referenced the list of people who were associated with the Facebook group and the people who had registered for the event, and the summit’s organizers canceled the group’s tickets.
 
I found out later, however, that several pro-Public Education people were turned away who had no affiliation with the protest group on Facebook, which leads one to wonder what sources the summit organizers were using to decide who could and who could not attend a “public forum”?
 
I did not stay for the entirety of the main program that was held in the Performing Arts Center’s theater because I needed to go to the store to buy supplies for the project my students were doing the following day. I did, however, stay long enough to hear Rep. Jason Nelson moderate a panel comprised of Sen. Stanislawski, Sen. Loveless, Rep. Chuck Strohm, and Rep. Calvey.
 
The panel was essentially five men tossing around school choice buzzwords to incite applause from the audience. I’m currently teaching rhetoric to my freshman, and I was almost tempted to start recording the panel in order to have my students analyze and identify the heavy use of pathos and the noticeable lack of ethos and logos in each of the legislator’s arguments for school choice.
 
As I drove away from the Oklahoma School Choice summit Thursday night, I reflected on what it means to be a public school teacher in the current political climate. Oklahoma teachers have been fighting the state legislator for many years to protect Public Education, and now that fight might find itself carried to the national level with the nomination of Betsy DeVos.
 
With every anti-Public Ed proposed legislative bill that I read, I feel my faith in the future of Oklahoma public school’s diminish. After leaving an environment where public school teachers like myself were categorized as union thugs, racist, selfish, and inept, my passion for public school teaching was reignited. Since Thursday, I’ve thought back to Dr. Perry’s words again and again, “You showed us that we hurt you by hollering. Keep hollering because we’re going to hurt you some more.”
 
Dr. Perry and many of the other speakers at the summit are not from Oklahoma, so perhaps they won’t understand. However, I feel it necessary to warn them not to mistake determination for being “hurt.” Don’t be so foolish as to misinterpret grit for fear. The war on Public Education has been waging in Oklahoma for many years now, and though it’s been trying and adverse, public schools and their teachers have persevered—and we will keep on persevering. 

My freshmen were given a very unique opportunity to submit essays, poems, or stories for the popular Chicken Soup for the Soul series. My students were excited for the chance to actually have their words in at that time a well-known published series. I was happy for the seriousness and excitement to which students took to the task.
 
Since the students’ writings had to be mailed to California, there were strict deadlines. I, of course, stressed the point that no late writings would be accepted. Even the teacher had deadlines to meet on this project!
 
On the day the final copy was due, I had a call from the main office informing me I had a visitor. Waiting to speak with me was a grandparent of one of my freshman, JD, who just so happened to be absent that day. JD was new to our school his freshman year. He was a quiet, very reserved, average student who seemed to prefer to be left alone. As his grandmother and I talked, she clutched a large, manila envelope. She shared with me some history about JD, a history in which I had absolutely no idea.
 
She told me how JD did not want to go to school this day, but he knew how important it was to submit his paper regardless. I smiled. My message got through to at least one student! His grandmother began to tell me about the content of JD’s paper which she held securely in her hand. My students’ assignment was to write a story, poem, or essay that had to fall under specific categories for the requirements of the book series. He choose to write under the category Death and Dying.  JD wrote about the events of April 19, 1995 in Oklahoma City.
 
JD’s mom worked in downtown OKC at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. JD was only 10 years old in 1995. He wrote about how excited he was that day when he was sent to the office to go home early with his grandfather and his aunt. In his elementary student mind, he thought it was a special surprise to go out to lunch, but he noticed they had been crying and both of them looked upset.  They took him to his home where he met several family members all gathered around the television watching news updates and local, live broadcasts of the event that forever changed his life and his family.  
 
He noticed his mother was not in the room with the family. As he watched the news and saw the rubble that once was the building in which his mother worked, he realized there was a chance his mom would not return home. He saw people of all ages pulled from the wreckage on stretchers and his family desperately looked at the scrolling list of names at the bottom of the screen that reported people who had been rescued.
 
His mother didn’t come home that Wednesday night or Thursday night, or the night after that. It was over 2 weeks after the bombing and JD’s family finally received news she had been found. JD’s mom worked on the seventh floor of the Murrah Federal Building and she was discovered on the second floor 2 ½ weeks after the bombing. His mom was one of 168 people who did not survive the domestic terrorist bombing of the federal building in downtown Oklahoma City.
 
When his grandmother finished telling me about JD’s mom, her daughter, and the contents of his paper, we were both in tears. I weakly explained to her that there were other categories he could have selected from to write for the assignment. JD’s grandmother said he assured her he wanted to write about the event; it was something he felt he needed to do, and she expressed how it had been a strengthening experience for him. His counselor for the last 5 years agreed. She handed me the brown, manila envelope as she left. I knew I would see JD differently now because of his strength and this tragedy he experienced at such a young age.
 
Several months later, I received official notice some of my students’ stories made the final selection for the book Chicken Soup for the Pre-Teen Soul. JD’s essay was one of them! We were both so very proud that his healing words would be a part of the publication. JD and I both received autographed copies from all the authors of the book that contained his essay. This autographed copy is one of my prized pieces from one of my students and his work.