In the first two weeks of September, many public-television stations will be airing a program called 鈥淭he Hobart Shakespeareans鈥� as part of the documentary series 鈥淧.O.V.鈥� Since that title may not catch the attention of teachers and others who care deeply about education, I want to give the program the notice it deserves. I鈥檇 also like to extend a challenge to those who watch it: Take arms against doubt.
A public-television program offers an instructive look at the work of teacher Rafe Esquith.
The program follows Rafe Esquith, a much-honored 5th grade teacher at the Hobart Elementary School in central Los Angeles. His students come from poor, mostly Latino and Asian families in which English is not the first language. They live in an environment suffused with violence and all the other negative social forces that undermine the sense of stability and hope all children should have. Hobart Elementary is precisely the kind of school that the No Child Left Behind Act鈥攚ith its prescribed reading programs, emphasis on testing and standards, and question-at-your-own-peril belief in a school day stripped of the arts, sports, and other aspects of human engagement that can鈥檛 be tied to a test score鈥攚as created to rescue.
Rafe Esquith would appear to be in complete noncompliance with this federal regimen. He asks much of his students, who immerse themselves in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, Lord of the Flies, Of Mice and Men, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, and A Separate Peace. They can鈥檛 always read these books during school hours, because they aren鈥檛 in the approved curriculum. His students also play baseball, go as a class to performances at the Hollywood Bowl, travel to the nation鈥檚 capital, devote entire days to pure silliness, and spend their free periods learning to play musical instruments.
These young students come to school early and stay late, which is when we see them preparing their production of a full-length play by William Shakespeare. And it鈥檚 the real deal. We watch them performing 鈥淗amlet,鈥� helped by visits to the school from the British actors Sir Ian McKellen and Michael York, but mostly led by Rafe Esquith. Here are 50 10-year-olds, poor, with non-English-speaking parents, breathing life into literature that is hundreds of years old and miles from their own experience. Yet, as Sir Ian says: 鈥淭he best thing about the Hobart Shakespeareans is that they know what they鈥檙e saying.鈥�
鈥擬argaret Booth
In the case of this classroom, however, the play is not the thing. It鈥檚 just another part of a school year in which the lessons are always the same, whether on stage, on the playground, in class, at a restaurant, at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, or bending over a washtub bobbing for apples.
This program is about great teaching. But it is not about a superstar teacher. Rafe Esquith is something special鈥攖here is no doubt about that鈥攂ut he really shouldn鈥檛 be. Every teacher watching the program will be inspired, but that inspiration is likely to dissolve into sentiments such as: I can鈥檛 be like him. My school would never allow such a thing. My students couldn鈥檛 handle it. There have been other stirring teacher stories on television and in the movies鈥擩aime Escalante, as portrayed in the film 鈥淪tand and Deliver,鈥� comes to mind鈥攂ut these models get written off too easily as people endowed with rare gifts or inspiration beyond the reach of mere mortals.
And there鈥檚 the rub. Rafe Esquith might have more stamina than most, might be more willing to sacrifice his time and resources, but when it comes to how he runs his class and what he expects from his students, he engages in nothing that isn鈥檛 middle-of-the-road, common-sense stuff about teaching and learning.
Esquith holds certain things sacred鈥攖eamwork, patience, sacrifice, having fun, being responsible, understanding language鈥攁nd he helps his students live by those principles and experience the results.
He wants his students to know what they are working for. He takes them to visit colleges, so they can see libraries that are quiet places where people aren鈥檛 bothering each other. It鈥檚 why his students stay in nice hotels and eat in good restaurants when they travel together. He lets them know that the Hollywood Bowl belongs to them as much as it does to everyone. But wherever they go, Rafe Esquith鈥檚 students are prepared for what they will see and for how they should behave.
He also gives them the best examples of literature. One of my favorite scenes from the show is when the young Latino boy playing Hamlet delivers the famous 鈥淲ords, words, words鈥� line while holding a copy of an Open Court reading manual. I鈥檓 more moved, however, when the camera captures children crying in class at the critical moment in Huckleberry Finn when Huck decides, once and for all, not to turn in Jim and to suffer whatever damnation he has coming to him for his actions. These students clearly understand the power of that passage, yet there is no politically correct or standards-based connection between them and the material鈥攅xcept, of course, for the connection all great literature makes with its readers.
These students are not angels. They are 5th graders with all the maddening behavior we associate with children on the boundary of adolescence. Their mistakes warrant consequences, but the consequences are tied to what matters to them. A student who doesn鈥檛 do his homework doesn鈥檛 get 鈥減aid鈥� for that day (based on an elaborate classroom economic system that teaches the value of money). A student who isn鈥檛 kind to others during a class activity doesn鈥檛 get to participate in that activity. Because these things are really valued, the lesson is well-learned.
The first principle of Rafe Esquith鈥檚 classroom is: There are no shortcuts. We see this written on a banner hung at the front of the classroom, and it鈥檚 a theme throughout the school year. It鈥檚 also the title of Esquith鈥檚 book (Pantheon, 2003). The principle first surfaced during a class trip to the Hollywood Bowl, when the teacher took his students backstage to meet the world renowned cellist Lynn Harrell. In response to a student鈥檚 question about how he could make such beautiful music, Harrell said, 鈥淲ell, there are no shortcuts.鈥� It stuck.
Rafe Esquith鈥檚 book gets across a point that barely makes it into the television program, yet reveals the essence of why he succeeds when so many other teachers don鈥檛. He is a learner. He arrived at his first teaching job, as most of us did, idealistic and eager. He wasn鈥檛 going to let 鈥渢he system鈥� beat him down. It didn鈥檛. What did beat him down鈥攁nd nearly killed him鈥攚ere his own mistakes, which he generously shares with readers. Over and again, he comes to crossroads in his own learning, and in every case his catalyst for growth鈥攈is guide鈥攖urns out to be a student. Rafe Esquith listens to students. In his classroom, he is unquestionably the boss, but that does not block his ability to learn from his students.
This program is about great teaching. But it is not about a superstar teacher.
For me, one of the saddest moments in 鈥淭he Hobart Shakespeareans鈥� comes during an interview with the school鈥檚 principal. She is describing the broader school culture, one in which other teachers do not always appreciate what Esquith does. With honest dismay, she tells a story of resentment and ostracism. There is also the implication that neither she nor the system can do much to help build a culture around the kind of teaching and learning that takes place in Esquith鈥檚 classroom. When we wonder why there is so much negative peer pressure brought to bear against students who are creative, bright, energetic, and committed to doing the right thing, we might first look at patterns of behavior among the adults. As Theodore R. Sizer and Nancy Faust Sizer have written: The students are watching.
Rafe Esquith also lives and teaches by another principle. He knows that what happens in a single year of a child鈥檚 life, no matter how positive it might be, is not enough to ensure anything. The learning process, like the growing process, takes years. There is a sea of troubles out there for every child, and especially for those who start with so little. What difference does it make to have a great 5th grade year, if all that lies ahead is a downward spiral into mediocrity and despair? Kids could look back on Rafe Esquith鈥檚 class as a cruel hoax, a teasing glimpse of what might have been. He tries to forestall such disillusionment by helping his charges continue to grow after they鈥檝e left his class, mostly by making himself available on Saturdays. A better solution would be to make his kind of class the rule, not the exception, in American education.
Parents who watch 鈥淭he Hobart Shakespeareans鈥� will want such a teacher for their children. Teachers who watch should want, not so much to be like Rafe Esquith, but to take from his classroom the simple principles that ensure good practice in their own. The majority of teachers can embrace these principles, and may be able to recall their power as they look back at the pivotal moments in their own lives and rediscover the catalysts that made them care so much about learning that they chose education as a career.
Those teachers inclined to dismiss such possibilities because they believe they鈥檒l never have classrooms like Rafe Esquith鈥檚 would do well to remember what the Bard of Avon had to say on the topic: 鈥淥ur doubts are traitors/ and make us lose the good we oft might win/ by fearing to attempt.鈥�
