Skip to main content

Sincerely Yours


This is the first year in the past twenty five or so years that I have not written a college recommendation letter. That's why a small feature in my local paper caught my attention this morning. It's an ethics advice column where people write in burning questions and get some self-appointed expert's opinion. So here's the deal. A high school English teacher is asking if it's unethical to think about asking for payment for doing as many as 20-30 recommendation letters a year. He notes how time consuming it is and that it seems as if a few teachers get the most requests for these increasingly crucial passports to college admission. The Dear Abby of ethics, a man, tells him that it is, of course, unthinkable to request payment or any compensation for this necessary part of his job. He cites a slew of examples to illustrate his wisdom. Doctors have to tackle after-hours tasks and many other folks in helping professions routinely go beyond their working hours. It simply comes with the territory, he concludes. Then the columnist, in a most condescending way, concludes with the lines " It might console you to consider that you have only yourself to blame: If you weren't a good teacher, you wouldn't receive so many requests. You could strive to write more efficiently."
I get that writing original, first-rate letters of recommendation comes with the territory. I concur that a handful of teachers write most of the letters. What disgusts me is that so many "ethical" people can't see the equity issue here. Unlike doctors and others in the helping professions, teachers don't get paid what they are worth. Unlike most other professions, English teachers, especially very good ones, have a non-stop paper load that is both time and energy consuming. They should be compensated in some form to write recommendations. Not from students or their parents. That makes no sense. But from the districts that employ them. It doesn't always have to be monetary; not that there's anything wrong with it. It could be time, or some other way to relieve the constant burden of paper grading, lesson planning, parent conferences, meetings, pre meeting meetings, support groups, faculty meetings, department meetings, emergency meetings, preparation time, and phone calls. The madness of college admission has forced many creative, inspiring, innovative teachers to abandon some of the things that bring joy to the classroom simply to meet the time restraints that come with wearing so many hats. I wonder if the overall quality of teaching would improve if true compensation were given for accurate hours of work?
I never declined a request for recommendation letters. I may have suggested that perhaps I might not be the best choice, but if a student of mine wanted assistance with college admission, I helped. Of course, I would tell the truth, it's only ethical. My curriculum was designed so that I could cite specific examples of student work and potential. I'm forever thankful that computers have replaced typewriters. That saves hours. But please, good recommendation letters are time consuming. Pay teachers for their work. Sincerely yours.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Non-Reader

"The man hasn't read a book in years." I keep hearing that about the current occupant of the White House.  Maybe that's as it should be because recent studies say that claim goes for over half the population of this country.  Scary but true.  It's obvious that the President doesn't know the history of this country.  Examples abound. Even for those who can forgive him for inventing the African country of Nambia (he referred to that the other day) the fact that he knows very little about American History doesn't seem sway his followers.  Either they know nothing too or they simply don't care.  Probably both.  Yet, the notion of ignoring history and repeating mistakes looms large all the while. A former colleague of mine, who taught Language Arts for a lifetime used to have a large banner in her classroom. When kids came into this learning environment they saw a sign which read, "Unless We Read, We Live But One Tiny Life." I'd love to hea...