All of my articles about teachers have been supportive. I write about them positively because I admire them, am amazed by their efforts on behalf of children, and I don't think most of the public sees what they're up against. But lately I've wanted to warn teachers about a behavior they can succomb to. They can become so involved in their own difficult set of circumstances that they are unintentionally rude.

Teachers work in survival mode. They are immersed in stomping out classroom fires, or meeting the latest testing requirement or demand handed down from higher ups. Then there's worrying about which parent might attack something they've done, said, or been told they've done or said. In addition, daily, they juggle managing and caring for twenty-some children. Given these conditions, my guess is they don't think much about pleasantries. Usually I'm understanding, but lately I've run into a string of teachers who make me wonder whether they have an inkling about how their behaviors affect those around them

Before I work in a school, I have a meeting to let teachers know what I'll do during my week-long residency. Several weeks ago, a lead teacher on a team in a Durham school requested that I come to her school for our pre-residency meeting. I arrived at the specified time only to be told she had a parent meeting slated for that same time. When I voiced my confusion, she told me she'd only wanted to show me their schedule. I began to simmer. I'd driven a half hour to Durham and left my children alone on a teacher workday so that she could hand me a piece of paper. I mustered my most cheerful manner and told her that these meetings were not to work out schedules, but to describe the work we'd be doing.

She told me if I could wait an hour, she would squeeze me in. I explained that I was needed at home and so she set up an impromptu meeting of the teachers I'd be working with. It was immediately apparent they had no idea I was coming. I shortened my usual presentation from a half an hour to five minutes. The entire time, the lead teacher worked on something else, looking up occasionally to voice a question because she'd missed what I'd said. This is a common teacher strategy. They're are used to doing two things at once. With the workload they carry, they need to work double time. But I wonder if they know how it feels to receive only partial-attention.

Two days later, I led a teacher workshop in another school, using one teacher's classroom to model techniques with her children. While twenty teachers looked on, I taught and she sat at her desk doing her own work. The children were fully involved, but this is not always the case. Many times, they follow the teacher's lead, and it seems the teachers have no idea that what they model, their children act on.

When teachers work at their desks and use my time in their classrooms as free time, they let the children know that what I'm doing is not important. When they speak with other teachers in normal voice tones, they let children know that it's fine to carry on conversations and disregard my lessons. Once I even had a teacher run a parent conference on the last day of my writing residency. As I was trying to pull together all the pieces, she and the mother talked non-stop as an accompanying toddler ran around unattended. At every pre-residency meeting I state that I expect to be co-teaching, but attentive, active involvement occurs in only a small number of the classrooms I visit.

Long ago I got over being personally upset by these behaviors. I have an odd role when I come into classrooms to write with children. I am not a parent. I am not a colleague. Maybe I'm one of the few people who comes into a classroom whose feelings don't have to be considered.

When I work in classrooms, I maintain control by running a game I call "The Respect Game". Children keep points and help me monitor the respect they're showing me and their peers. The only failing of this game comes when teachers ingore it. There have been many times I've wondered why they don't see the incongruity they're creating with their behavior. Children function in their world as sentient beings, their feelings and perceptions stronger than their intellects. How can they make sense of one teacher preaching respect while the other teacher is showing more disrespect than anyone in the room?

What bothers me most is that these behaviors don't match the teacher traits I've learned to value. Teachers, in general, are the most caring, dedicated professionals I know. My suspicion is that the work overload they face has robbed them of the compassion and humanity so crucial to their profession and to our children.