211. Letter To The Editor: The Underground History of American Education
by John Taylor Gatto from archive.org
Letter To The Editor
March 22,
1995 Letters to the Editor The Education News
When I
began teaching in 1961, the student population of School District 3 on the prosperous Upper West Side of Manhattan was
over 20,000, and the cry was heard
everywhere from the four district administrative employees (!) that schools
were overcrowded.
But I
was fresh from western Pennsylvania and
saw something different, a small but significant fraction of the school's enrollment was made up of phantom kids in several categories: kids on the school register who had never shown up but were carried as if they had; kids who were absent but who for revenue purposes were entered as present; kids who were assigned to out-of-school programs of various sorts, some term-long, but who continued as phantoms to swell the apparent school rolls. Then there were the absentees, about 10 percent a day, who were actually marked absent, and the curious fact that after lunch attendance dipped precipitously sending that fraction soaring, although there seemed to be a gentlemen's agreement not to document the fact.
saw something different, a small but significant fraction of the school's enrollment was made up of phantom kids in several categories: kids on the school register who had never shown up but were carried as if they had; kids who were absent but who for revenue purposes were entered as present; kids who were assigned to out-of-school programs of various sorts, some term-long, but who continued as phantoms to swell the apparent school rolls. Then there were the absentees, about 10 percent a day, who were actually marked absent, and the curious fact that after lunch attendance dipped precipitously sending that fraction soaring, although there seemed to be a gentlemen's agreement not to document the fact.
So it
was that when the press announced horrendous class sizes of 35 and 50, in
my school, at least, the real number was
about 28 — still too many, of course, but manageable. Although everyone agreed there was absolutely
no space available anywhere, by greasing
the custodian's palm I was able to obtain a master key and a priceless
document known as the "empty-room
schedule." Would you believe there was never a time when multiple rooms in that building weren't empty? By
training my kids in low-profile guerrilla tactics I was able to spread about half my class into
different cubbyholes around the building
where they worked happily and productively, in teams or alone.
Beginning in the 1980s this tactic became impossible because all the
empty spaces did fill up — even though
the number of students District 3 was managing fell sharply from 20,000 to 10,000, and with even more lax
procedures to account for them than when I
was originally hired. This latter development caused phantom children to
multiply like rabbits. A simple act of
long division will explain in outline what had happened: by dividing the number of students enrolled in
my building by the number of teachers on the
class register, I was able to discover that average class sizes should
have been 17 kids.
And
yet actual class sizes were about 28. The mystery of the now unavailable
empty space vanishes in the ballooning
numbers of "coordinators," "special supervisors," "community programs officers," and
various other titular masks behind which deadwood was piling up. Each of these people required
an "office" whether that be the former Nurse's Room, the dressing room behind the
stage, or a conveniently large storage closet.
It had happened to the Army and to IBM, why should schools be
exempt?
John Taylor Gatto
New York, New York
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