Ari Kaufman
January 21, 2006
Late last year, I penned many pieces for newspapers and webzines about my
perils as a public school educator in Los Angeles. The articles' focuses were
on the discontinuity between the "real world" and the world of
teachers. After perusing these essay, many teachers had various criticisms of
my views on education, from performance-based pay to tenure to union
influence. However, I never delved into the other half of the reasoning for my
early exodus from my time as a teacher.
During my ephemeral teaching career in Los Angeles, there were numerous
troubling examples of educational ludicrousness and lunacy. Of all the
examples, the environmental "indoctrination" of my students was the
most disconcerting. Doubtlessly, California schools' obsession with the
environment is incomparable with most other states, but the anecdotal evidence
I mentally compiled is striking.
It wasn't only that the students were regularly pulled from my class at
inopportune times to have the same information ingrained into their ten
year-old minds, but rather, that the messages a high percentage of these
groups pontificated were that human-beings are inherently bad people, animal
killers, and are ruining our once-beautiful earth.
Consider the presentation made by a college theater group from UCLA. Showing
no interest in a balanced engagement with the issues, the group instead staged
a 20-minute play whose theme can be summarized thusly and unfortunately: Once
upon a time, the Earth was beautiful. Then humans came and destroyed it. To
appreciate the effect of such simplistic narratives on students, consider the
reaction of a confused little girl in my classroom. Visibly upset, she
approached me after the play to ask: “Are we really ruining the Earth”? I
did my best to explain, as objectively as possible, that the reality was a bit
more complicated that the play would have her believe. But this had little
effect.
In case the numerous assemblies by theatre groups and yoga instructors proved
inadequate to steeping the kids in environmentalist dogma, there were also
field trips designed to achieve the same end. One that will always stand out
was the "school journey" ("field trip" is no longer used
in education) of choice for most teachers, called “Ocean Day. Organized by
the Malibu Foundation, a non-profit group whose declared mission is
“creating conservationists” out of school children, it was annual day set
aside for environmental activism, or as it is euphemistically called,
“in-school environmental education.”
Since the LAUSD claimed to have such a paltry budget, this venture was my
class's only trip each year. Thus, even though I quickly deduced it would be a
typically LA "save the earth" venture, I cared about the children's
enjoyment, so I obliged. Interspersed between full day rehearsals for the
"International Dance Festival" and preparations for state testing,
my grade level journeyed off to the beach for "Ocean Day."
After about 25 minutes of searching the pristine beach for trash that was
non-existent, the kids took off their protective gloves, ate lunch, stared at
the water ("Look but don't touch" was the rule), and then along with
over 5,000 other LAUSD students, we spent an hour getting organized for a
fly-over shot by a few news stations, which was undoubtedly be fawned over for
many nights.
The amazingly outrageous part was that the beach was unbelievably clean;
however, because we were apparently trying to indoctrinate the youths that
beaches are filthy places where animals go to die (hence, the photo we created
was a dying fish on oxygen), the kids could not dare go in that water. Nor
were we allowed to play catch, wear sandals nor shorts. Most high school kids
donned school uniforms.
The overall point of the annual trip was, ostensibly, to clean up trash on
California beaches. Their work done, the children would then pose for the
aforementioned photographs conveying the message of the trip. On this
occasion, they were asked to line up in the outline of the fish with an oxygen
mask while an aerial photograph was taken. My heartfelt attempts to recommend
a more educational venue for a field trip – for instance, the Museum of
Tolerance in Los Angeles – were often met with indifference from school
administrators. My fellow teachers were even less open to the idea, offering
little assistance. Once, when I questioned the wisdom of ferrying the kids to
spend yet another day picking up trash and reciting environmentalist slogans,
two teachers rudely dismissed my objections.
While living in Los Angeles and in other areas of this nation, I have visited
beaches quite often, and this "troubled" beach looked just as
serene, and the water looked just as lucid as Malibu, New Jersey, or Florida.
It was clear that, especially in Los Angeles, education had certain ulterior
motives.
And that, along with myriad other examples, served as the foundation for my
discouraging experiences as a schoolteacher. Aside from the abundance of job
perks that teachers disregard in order to express displeasure, when you factor
in the true "politics" of education, I slowly sensed throughout my
tenure, that education was "far removed" from the occupation in
which I once envisioned a long, happy career.
A public schoolteacher in Los Angeles for three years, Ari Kaufman is now
a freelance journalist, contributing sports, socio-educational, travel and
political commentaries to various media. He is also the author of an upcoming
book on his educational experiences.
Source: http://www.opinioneditorials.com/freedomwriters/akaufman_20060121.html