The College Fix

NOTE: This post is a modified version of this original piece of mine from over eight years ago.

I just have to wince every time I check in on the Hilary Swank film “Freedom Writers.” If this isn’t just a sappy remake of Michelle Pheiffer’s “Dangerous Minds” for all intents and purposes, I’ll eat my hat.

Certainly, teachers that are dramatized by Swank, Phieffer and others are nothing short of miracle workers. And, their stories can be uplifting. But one thing that annoys me is the Hollywood mantra of a “Great White Hope” that is necessary for these tough, inner-city classrooms.

Remember how Pheiffer is virtually terrified in her first few days in the classroom? But hey — she is determined to reach these kids by, among other things, “understanding” where they come from. Swank is obviously keen on doing likewise.

Matthew Perry in “The Ron Clark Story” is another. Meryl Streep in “Music of the Heart” is yet another.

If you know me by my past writings, I’m certainly not one to endorse the multiculti philosophy that kids will learn “better” if they are taught by teachers who “look like them.” And, surely, middle-class whitebreadish teachers like Pheiffer, Swank et. al. will have to make necessary adjustments to whatever teaching methods they learned in order to be successful with high-need urban students.

But this isn’t my point. The point is that Hollywood seems to believe that these stories are “inspirational” in part because these middle-class whitebreadish teachers “give their all” to help their destitute pupils — they sacrifice and are devoted beyond measure — when they could’ve taken a cushy suburban teaching job that would have been much easier. They’re “Great White Hopes” as I said before.

But what about the stories of teachers who do “look like their students” who have been there since day one doing their utmost to get through to these kids?

How many of you have seen (or even heard of) the excellent film starring Samuel L. Jackson titled “187”? Jackson plays a teacher who was nearly killed by a student at his school, yet moves to California years later and gives teaching a go again (at yet another tough high school). It’s gritty, dark and realistic, and being that the number “187” stands for murder under the California penal code, you know it’s gonna be one macabre flick.

More well-known is “Lean On Me” starring Morgan Freeman as no-nonsense principal Joe Clark who turns an inner-city school around primarily by means of “old school”-style discipline and punishment. This obviously pisses off the typically “touchy-feelie” educrats and the bureaucrats who then conspire against Clark.

“Stand and Deliver” stars Edward James Olmos as Bolivian math teacher Jaime Escalante. He teaches at a heavily Latino school and uses this to his advantage in motivating his students to excel at the subject — going all the way to calculus. One of the things he notes is how the native civilizations of the Americas (particularly the Maya) were geniuses at mathematics — “You have math in your blood!” he tells his class. In such a setting, it is difficult to imagine a Michelle Pheiffer or Hilary Swank establishing such a rapport.

Lastly, one of my favorite all-time movies about teachers is called just that — “Teachers.” Nick Nolte, Judd Hirsch and a young(er) Morgan Freeman star in the over 30-year old film that still really holds up well today. I agree with what a commenter had to say at the IMDB:

While the story takes some liberties with realism this is actually a very good film. As a 25 year teacher I can honestly say that what may have appeared outrageous in 1984 is pretty close to reality today.

Frustrated teachers, out of the loop administrators, a total lack of discipline, students bringing a smörgåsbord of baggage to class and a stubborn school board that puts the money above the needs of the students.

What I like about “Teachers” is that it portrays professionals that truly place the needs of the students first even if their methods are unconventional. Give me one teacher like Nick Nolte’s character instead of 10 Dittos. Forget the mantra “looks good, is good” and admit mistakes. The community responds best to the truth.

Students in any school situation respond to the sincerity of their teachers. Put the young people first and don’t be afraid to walk around in their shoes once in a while.

No, the film doesn’t deal with (mainly) one particular ethnic group, but a fairly well-mixed group like the district in which I teach.

Nolte’s character is initially shown to be a slacker (he has to be called by the school secretary to even get out of bed and come to work), but he later demonstrates that he’s probably the best teacher in the school. He has a terrific connection with his students, and in one of my favorite scenes he forgoes a day’s lesson plan because the heater in his room is broken. “So,” he tells the class, “Today we’re going to enter the world of heater repair” and the students all gather around to watch him fix the heater. Talk about your “teachable moment!”

He goes above and beyond to reach a kid (played by Karate Kid Ralph Macchio) who everyone else has given up on, and willingly takes an administrative hit for it (due to allowing him to use school equipment to take embarrassing photos around school that get out to the local media).

Nolte also faces a situation I actually encountered in real life very early in my teaching career. While attending a conference with Macchio’s character’s mom, the mom is completely disinterested in what’s happening to her son. Nolte asks, “Mrs. Pilikian, don’t you care about your son’s education?”  To which she responds, “Isn’t that YOUR job, Mr. Jurel?”

(In my case, I heard a parent chastise an administrator for even bothering to contact her about her son’s constant misbehavior. “YOU’RE the educator,” she said. “YOU’RE the professional. This is YOUR problem.” Isn’t that nice?)

The best symbolism is Richard Mulligan’s character — a mental patient — who unintentionally serves as a substitute teacher. Before he’s discovered, he ends up being one of the most beloved teachers in the whole building — his off-the-wall antics have endeared his kids to him (just check out he and his class re-enacting Washington’s crossing of the Delaware) … the obvious message being that you really have to be a little bit crazy to teach, and being so actually helps you relate to the kids better.

Dave Huber is an assistant editor of  The College Fix. (@ColossusRhodey)

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