Two days ago the septic tank at our school burst, spewing dirty sewer water, feces, urine, and toilet paper all over our blacktop "yard." This is the central meeting space for children, parents, and teachers. This is a high-traffic area where the 4th and 5th graders, who have been quarantined into portables, travel from their rooms to the cafeteria and the outdoor bathrooms.

Did our school get closed? No. Were parents informed about the accident? Only if they asked. In a middle class school with better-informed parents, school would have been cancelled and parents would all have been informed of the safety and health concerns of the accident. To their credit, the administrators asked that the gates be locked so as to keep children and families out of the yard. They called the city and had trucks out cleaning up the yard all day. But this did not prevent kids from venturing out on their own to check out the spill nor did it prevent teachers from walking right through the filthy water and right into their classrooms.

If you read this and are as outraged as I am, please call the Oakland Unified School District (510-879-8200) and complain. They need to hear what is happening. We need to stand up for the safety of our children.

Siobhan Boylan is a 3rd grade teacher at East Oakland PRIDE.

This weekend I had, quite dramatically, a transformational experience. Two, actually.

On Friday I went to hear Jonathan Kozol speak in Berkeley. He gave his usual talk about Pineapple (a student from the Bronx) and the evil of standardized tests, but he manages to broach such dire subjects like tests and inequality and scripted curricula with a silver lining that instead of being discouraging is inspiring and uplifting. He was pushing his new book, Letters to a Young Teacher, about a young woman in her first year of teaching in Boston. Her tales of subversive rebellion is exactly what I needed to hear. When I got the chance to speak with him and get my fresh new book signed, I got quite choked up as I tried to tell him about the shackles I wear called Open Court, Language for Learning, disfunctional and overwhelmed district staff and seemingly insurmountable fear of failing test scores. I asked him to come to our school. He asked me to write down my contact information. I am hopeful that in the least I will create a powerful ally.

The following day I attended a conference called "Teachers for Social Justice." This is an organization of teachers who use their work in the classroom as a tool to achieve educational equity — and social justice. The opening address was given by an Oakland teacher and SFSU professor, Jeffrey Duncan-Andrade. His thesis rested on the notion that our educational system is currently balanced: On one side of the scale are the "gangstas," who try to sabotage the efforts of the teachers for social justice, while on the other side are the "ridas," who put everything at stake for the success and sustainability of students and their families. In the middle sit the "wankstas," people who want to be ridas, but are pulled by curriculum, paperwork, inexperience, isolation, and, most notably fear, closer to the side of the gangstas. He made it clear that you don't get to be a rida simply by doing your job. You must be prepared, have a clear purpose and vision, reflect, and be willing to take risks. His ending quote was, "Anything worth doing requires risks."

After leaving this conference I felt ready to buck the trends in my classroom (which are going southward) and push aside my complacent compliance in order to liven up my classroom and make it a space for true critical thought and analysis. My purpose has been made quite clear thanks to Duncan-Andrade and Kozol: Ms. Boylan is going to be a rida.

I'll keep you all posted as to how it turns out...

Siobhan Boylan is a 3rd grade teacher at East Oakland PRIDE

They say in mid-October teachers hit a plateau. Kids are mastering routines, but ceasing to make progress, the mountains of paperwork make it hard to find the note a kid left you telling you what a great teacher you are or the memo from the office staff asking you to turn in a set of forms. The year is in full swing, but you feel like you're not on it.

Welcome to the doldrums, where we're all on this great big boat together, but we're not moving forward. My kids are doing a great job of our morning routines: We come in, greet each other, play a quick community-builder game, and are ready to start off with Open Court. But by the time we get to our first recess, they're already more interested in the bite marks on their pencil than what's going on in our story about Jackie Robinson. It's almost as if the door that opens to the playground releases the wind from our sails.

I realized today that my ship's not moving because the captain has left the helm. I have been lulled into the security of a scripted reading curriculum, my wealth of math games, and a sense that my kids could behave for the first 5 weeks. I need to get back into the habit of planning every minute so I know exactly what to do — so that my kids know exactly what to do. But after spending 30 minutes on the phone with parents and 15 minutes debriefing with my colleagues, it's time to de-clutter my desk and pack up to go home, where I slump into the warmth and comfort of my couch.

I want this ship to go full-steam ahead, but I've run out of steam.

Siobhan Boylan is a 3rd grade teacher at East Oakland PRIDE