I worked at Franklin K. Lane High School in New York City during most of the 1980s and
was fortunate to work with a number of outstanding individuals. Lane could be a difficult
place to work and many teachers, including myself, had trouble maintaining control and
teaching our classes.
Emilie was a middle-aged White woman who was barely 5 feet tall. Her students, most of
whom were Latino or African American, generally towered over her. As a teacher, Emilie can
best be described as a “skilled craftsman.” Her lessons and her units were carefully laid out.
Students respected her because they knew they could count on her to teach them in ways
that they would understand and to prepare them for standardized tests and graduation re-
quirements. She was always responsible and never yelled, or lost her patience or her poise.
Barry was an “old school” teacher who demanded and received total attention and effort
from students. In Barry’s classes, students did the homework on time and they answered
questions when called on. He had high expectations and no one ever said “NO!” to him. It
was just the way things were.
Rozella was every student’s “dream” mother, organizing special activities and every other
aspect of their lives. It was usually impossible to tell what was going on in Rozella’s classes,
probably because so many things were going on at the same times. Students sometimes
seemed confused, but they were always patient with her. They cared about her and about
learning because they knew she cared about them.
After I left Lane to work as a teacher educator, I had the opportunity to return to high
school, teaching for a year at Edward R. Murrow High School. At Murrow, I worked with
three extraordinary colleagues. Saul, about 60 years old, was the school’s principal. He was a
conscientious follower of John Dewey’s philosophy of education and Socrates’ method of
teaching. Murrow, under Saul’s direction, allowed students to spend unassigned periods sit-
ting in the halls, studying, or hanging out with friends. Saul would continually walk through
the halls, stopping repeatedly to squat down and chat with students.
I do not think I ever heard Saul make either an affirmative or negative statement or raise
his voice. It seemed that whatever students or faculty said, he always thought for a second
and then responded with a question. Saul taught an advanced placement class that met an
hour before school began in the morning. Every term it was overloaded with students, who
voluntarily left home before dawn to travel to Murrow by bus or subway in order to take his
class.
John, David, and I often used to plan lessons together. John was a devotee of the over-
head projector and a short quote or newspaper headline. David, who shared my proclivity
for extended documents and activity sheets, was always clipping articles from the newspa-
per. John had the ability, mid-lesson, to introduce a simple headline and use it to draw the
entire class into heated discussion. Just when the discussion was dying down and everyone
seemed swayed to the same position, another headline was slapped on the overhead and
disagreement would erupt again.
David’s handouts were detailed, with readings of different lengths, maps, pictures,
graphs, cartoons, and plenty of questions. He often reproduced an entire newspaper article
because he wanted students to get used to reading and evaluating complex subject matter.
David’s knack was discovering and organizing a wide range of material with carefully con-
structed questions so that even when students stumbled over a difficult reading passage,
they could figure out the meaning from the questions or the other materials.
Recently, as a field supervisor for student teachers, I have had the opportunity to visit the
classrooms of many of my former teacher education students who have become cooperat-
ing teachers. A number of them have their secondary school students create elaborate indi-
vidual and group projects to demonstrate what they have learned about a topic and as a
68 CHAPTER 3