The Guy Teacher He's often smart, energetic, compassionate, and fun. But how does he really feel about the work he does? It's more complex than you think. A look at the men in our schools: why we love 'em, why we need 'em, why we want more of 'em. More...

Photo by Scott Suchman

Also in this story... Why We Need 'Em Get 'Em Young How We Find 'Em and Keep 'Em Minority Dilemma: Sticky Issue, Promising Solutions Getting 'Brothers' on Board to Teach

At 55, Johnny Ledbetter is not exactly what you'd call an MTV sort of guy. But is he ever cool. When he walks, he glides--eyes twinkling, arms swinging, confidence oozing. Tall and robust, he strikes a formidable pose among the scrawny fifth graders who are his charges--and in the Dale City, Virginia, school where he's taught for 16 years, he's got the cachet to go along. Here, they crave his attention, adore his humor, beg his praise. Play ball? Pul-leeze, Mr. Ledbetter, with us! Work a math problem? Oooh, Mr. Ledbetter, help meeee! Too much noise? Like, uh, so sorry, Mr. Ledbetter. Really.

"People ask me how I do this every day, why I do this," Ledbetter says, scanning his bustling room at Belair Elementary School, "and I say it's easy when you have the respect of your kids, when you like them and they like you." He shrugs, smiling. "It's really where it starts."

All fine, but Ledbetter is no fool. More than anybody, he knows that the very question--why he, a guy, chooses to teach young kids--is rife with unspoken biases. But you could be doing more "manly" things. You could be making more money, gaining glory, grooving on the sound of quiet. For heaven's sake, you could be a boss!

It is not paranoia. Over the last two decades, say education analysts, preschool and elementary school teaching has become so underrated as a "real" man's career that the Ledbetters of the world have been catapulted into the ranks of the rare. And if they happen to be teachers of color in a predominately white suburban district--that's Ledbetter--count them as virtual anomalies. Consider: in the 29 years Ledbetter has been an educator, he's worked with just four other males--and only one was African American like him.

It's a bitter fact of public school life: Despite decades of struggle to banish distinctions between "men's work" and "women's work," men simply aren't racing to the sign up gates to teach little kids--or increasingly, any kids. Just 25 percent of America's 3 million teachers are men, and most are clustered in middle and high schools where they're more apt to be waxing knowledgeable about math and football--not (as the stereotypes go) wiping noses and nurturing. NEA figures show a scant 9 percent of teachers in elementary school are male, down from 14 percent in 1986. And the gap is widening across the board: While men represented half of secondary teachers in 1986, today, they make up 35 percent.

Among minorities, the statistics are as troubling. Students of color make up 40 percent of the public school population, but teachers of color account for only 16 percent of the ranks. Not surprisingly, most are women--86 percent--and most are concentrated in areas with large populations of minorities. Indeed, some 42 percent of public schools have no minority teacher at all.

"The sad reality is that a young boy could go through his entire education without ever having a teacher who looks like me," said NEA President Reg Weaver last year in launching a stepped up effort by NEA to woo more men and minorities. "This is not a reflection of the world or our communities, and it's certainly not a reflection of how we want our kids to see the world."

So what gives? Is there no glory for men and minorities in what some consider the noblest of professions? How goes the message to kids? And does society care?

A complex jumble
The answers aren't so simple, but in the minds of many men, the realities are. Yes, it's money: many men don't feel teaching pays enough to support families. It's power and prestige: many just don't see it coming with the turf. It's preparation time and expense: colleges of education spin out rigorous requirements, and even then many students, especially minorities, struggle to pass certification tests (see "Minority Dilemma"). And no doubt, it's the work itself: with so many new testing and curriculum demands, teaching is arguably more challenging than it's ever been.

Yet, says Bryan Nelson, founder of MenTeach, a nonprofit clearinghouse for the recruitment of male teachers, these aren't necessarily the issues that steer men away from the profession in such disproportionate numbers. Women, after all, beg off for many of the same reasons. A deeper issue, he suggests, is the failure of society to trumpet the idea that diversity of this sort is something society not only values, but wants. That resistance, he says, has cultural underpinnings in many things, especially fear, bias, and dated notions of how men should "be."

Paul Sargent, a San Diego State University sociologist, agrees. He notes, for example, that while boys make up half the classrooms in America, less than 2 percent of male teachers land in those critical grades between preK and third grade.

"Frankly, many guys feel they won't look masculine," says Sargent, who has researched and written extensively on the phenomenon. "Of course, we don't feel 'masculine' or 'feminine' all by ourselves; we read other people's reaction to us." And for sure, when it comes to men teaching small children, the reaction--from parents, from administrators, even from other teachers--is not always embracing.

"The most poignant stories I hear from men at this level is how nervous and jumpy they are about being branded molesters," Sargent says. Many go out of their way to compensate, he says, but they walk a tightrope. "They can't be overly masculine because they're seen as lacking natural nurturing behavior," Sargent says. "But if they're warm and open and cuddly, then other flags go up--they 'must' be gay and 'of course' gay means pedophile. It can be pretty bad--all day long they're judging the context of their behavior."

Even in some colleges of education, he says, men are quietly told that early childhood education "is not the field you may feel comfortable in." But the discouraging messages about teaching in general weigh in long before that--in the dearth of mass media images showing men in caring roles with kids, in the kinds of school service projects boys are directed to (e.g., painting houses versus caring for the sick), in the way some school guidance counselors overlook even the possibility of teaching as a career.

Significantly, says Segun Eubanks, director of NEA's Teacher Quality Department, the message is not the same for males in education leadership jobs. To the contrary, "men have historically been overrepresented in principalships and administrative positions--including in elementary schools." And that, he says, speaks to an even darker issue of "male privilege and female oppression" throughout society. Even minority males, he says, are handed more leadership opportunities than women.

So what impact does this have in the classroom? Beginning at a very young age, says Bryan Nelson, school children "miss out on an accurate picture of what a total community is really like, and should be like." They also miss out on what he calls "that male energy," the experience of perhaps a different teaching approach, an alternative authority figure, a healthy male role model--and in the case of minority men, a valuable cultural connection that could inspire some kids to learn more and better. Unfortunately, by the time many students reach secondary school, says Nelson, even if they've had male teachers, they have already absorbed "the powerful message that teaching kids is something men don't really do."

It's a mindset that NEA and other organizations are aggressively trying to change through support of "grow your own" recruitment programs that target potential teachers early and often. Middle and high school programs that capture the imagination of students when they are open and impressionable; college programs that offer scholarships, tuition, and mentoring; paraeducator to teacher programs that ease the way for those who desire the challenge--all these offer great promise for enticing males and minorities to those early grades and beyond, says Eubanks.

"Really, a lot of it is in just asking the question," suggests Nelson. "And if you make it look cool, too, young people will consider almost anything. So much of [the turning away] is the peer pressure of not wanting to be odd."

So is it cool? What is it like to be a guy in a profession so wholly dominated by women? Are there lessons to be learned as advocates go about the business of trying to lure others to the ranks?

NEA Today talked to male teachers across the country and while we did find them confronting a hodgepodge of quirky challenges--kids playing matchmaker for their moms, troubled boys crying out for "replacement" dads, girls donning too many of the latest provocative styles--we detected a palpable sense of satisfaction at having chosen this work, and more importantly, at having decided to stick around.

Hearing the call
So this is the skinny on Robert Mason, courtesy of his fourth graders at Rowland Elementary School in Decatur, Georgia:

He calls everybody in his class Mr. or Miss, as in "Mr. Alton" and "Miss Barnes." Like ALL the time. (Except when he's disappointed in your behavior and then he calls you by your first name.) He challenges your mind and talks about world events and all that heavy stuff. He's reeeally funny, and he loves to dance, especially during free time on Fridays. But you know when he means business because he gives you " that look."

Chat it up with Mason himself and you quickly "get" it--the dancing, the Mr./Miss thing, the obvious love. It's about building self-respect, honor, trust, he says. Many of the kids in his predominately Black school, he notes, are raised by single women, and some have made a point to get their kids in his class. Mason understands. "My father died when I was eight years old," he explains, "and it gave me great awareness of what it's like not to have a male figure in your life." His mom was terrific, he says, "but there was something missing, and I knew it."

It was after going through an Upward Bound program, "where a lot of guys took time with me," that he knew whatever he did in life would involve "giving back--helping kids go in the right direction."

Other men say they know the feeling. The experience of being inspired by other males--teachers, in many cases--is what some say actually lit the first spark. For Johnny Ledbetter, it was the band director "who met us at the door and if we were upset would say something that took the chip right off our shoulders." For Rodney Williams, a seventh-grade science teacher at Kirby Middle School in Birmingham, it was the sixth- grade teacher who "was able to be compassionate even when he was being the disciplinarian." (Although all the teachers made an impression because, as Williams remembers, "they all drove big pretty cars and smelled good.")

Even men who had not thought much of teaching while growing up say they were drawn to it after tapping out, uninspired, in other professions. Greg Pugliese, a second-year kindergarten teacher at Glenarden Woods Elementary in Glenarden, Maryland, worked in construction for 20 years and ultimately owned his business. "But really, I wasn't happy." So at 48, he went back to college, got an alternative certification degree--an increasingly popular route to teaching for men--and landed at the school his own two kids once attended. "The thing that lured me was the potential to really have some impact on young lives.

"I know it's crazy," he says, "but I had this utopic vision of being this Mr. Rogers--you know, everything soft and fuzzy wonderful. Obviously it's been more challenging than that. But it's been a real gift."

Same with Callis West, 32, a special education teacher at Thomas Dale High School in Chesterfield, Virginia. He'd been a police officer for four years in nearby Danville, but found himself arresting so many kids--most only 12 and 13 years old--that "I started feeling like I was part of the problem, not the solution." And so five years ago, he called it quits.

"I did a lot of soul searching on those long night shifts and decided this was how I could connect to kids in a way that made sense to me, and to them."

Boy Talk
And what of this connection? Tim Soliday, a fifth-grade teacher who teaches at a school "smack in the middle of a cornfield" in Spencer, Indiana, says he can't quite explain what happens that magical moment when you know your kids are really listening--and especially to you. He certainly can't explain how it feels to be seen as a father figure, and by girls and boys alike. But it does happen sometimes, he says. And that's okay. "There's so much going on in a kid's life at this time. They're developing their views and their values, and all I'm thinking about is how I can help with that," says Soliday, a 14-year teaching veteran at McCormick's Creek Elementary School. "The truth is that most kids really don't think much further than a week or two ahead, so from the beginning of the year I like focusing on what they might do when they're 20."

Yet in digging into "real life" like this, many men say they do find themselves making what appear to be more solid emotional connections with boys. Call it an authority thing, call it something else. For many, it just clicks.

"I often ask the boys what they see themselves doing when they're my age," says Enrico Amutan, 27, a fifth-grade teacher at Horace Cureton Elementary in San Jose, California. "And you know, it's kind of a hook for them. They really respond. It's like, 'He's a guy, I'm a guy. We can talk.' With some female teachers they just shut down, like 'it's my mom all over again.' Emotionally, it just seems to be a big thing for them--being able to identify."

NEA's Segun Eubanks notes that research about these types of bonds--and their impact on student achievement--is sparse. But anecdotal stories of success, he says, are "universal." "Children find role models in anybody who they see as accessible and available," he says. For a boy, a man is often that person. And if he's a man who brings a certain cultural sensibility, the possibilities for connections may be even greater. That's why experts see so much promise in recruiting more minority men and women to classrooms, particularly those with minority students. An upcoming report by the National Collaborative on Teacher Diversity, of which NEA is a part, notes that minority teachers often call upon their cultural roots and experiences to connect struggling kids to an academic lesson. Mason says he does it all the time, and feels it does give him an edge in "getting through."

"I'll hear them humming a song, for example, and I'll say the name of it, and first of all, that really surprises them--knowing I'm hip to what they're hip to," says Mason, who was named Teacher of the Year at his school a year ago. "But then I'll ask them, are they really listening to the words--and we'll get into some deeper discussion about the impact of those words on their lives." He'll even challenge them to "put your academics to rap--like rap your multiplication facts."

Kids respect you more when you can "bring it home" like that, Mason thinks. It's just when they begin to see you as a real life "dad" that it can get a little sticky, says Amutan, a Filipino teaching in a largely Hispanic school.

"For me, it's difficult to step back sometimes because it's so overwhelming to hear what goes on at home, or doesn't," he says. "So many kids don't have fathers--or don't even interact with the ones they have....But I know I have to draw a clear line between teacher and guardian." On the other hand, he notes, opportunities for "fatherly" lessons abound, and he and others say they aren't inclined to pass them up.

"The reality is that many of us teach young men how to be men," says Michael Pope, 32, whose predominately Black students at Stevenson Middle School in Stone Mountain, Georgia, sometimes called him "Pope Daddy." "I know it's an abstract concept, but we're so tuned in to their social, physical, and emotional well-being, that we can say--without fear--man, you need to wear some cologne, don't wear your pants hanging off your butt, this is how you talk to an adult, this is what you do with that attitude, this is how you treat your peers."

If it makes teachers more trusted, all the better. "That's when kids really want to make you proud of them," says Pope, who just started a two-year stint as an elementary school science coordinator on a U.S. military base in Atsugi, Japan. "You see them trying harder."

Girls, he and others say, are just as affected by this kind of modeling--and in more ways than one. "One student tried to fix me up with her mom," says Amutan, laughing, "and I had to say, 'oh, no, that's not right--and anyway, I'm seeing someone!'" More often than not, though, they notice men advising boys on how to act, and appreciate that it's often to their benefit.

"I was walking in the hall one day and overheard a guy call his girlfriend a 'bitch,'" West recounts. "Well, I stopped and asked her point blank, 'What are you doing with this guy? Don't allow him, or anybody, to call you that.' Then I asked the boy, 'What's wrong with you, man? Show some respect. You're making us all look bad!'" The boy sheepishly took note, the girl felt defended, and West felt he had forged an opening for further chats.

The treatment of female students is an especially sensitive topic to him, West continues, because he serves as the faculty rep for Students Against Violence and hears countless tales of sexual and emotional abuse. "I think it's really critical to try to present to girls who really may not know better, that all men aren't like that--to be able to say, 'here's what you should expect,'" West says. "I have little daughters of my own, and I just can't imagine a life for them without those models."

Sugar and spice and...
Still, for all the positive influence they can provide female students, men are presented with some unique challenges. "The hardest thing is understanding how to talk to them about some of their issues," Amutan admits. "I think I can handle it, but it's a certain tact you have to acquire. For example, I had a girl who had to use the restroom because she'd started her menstrual cycle, but she went next door to another teacher and told her, 'No way I would talk to Mr. Amutan about this!' I could understand, but it does make you feel awkward."

That's the light stuff, of course. For many males, fears around being called an abuser or flirt loom large, even though nationwide anecdotal evidence suggests it happens rarely. (There are no national statistics on harassment and abuse between students and school staff.) As Jerry Newberry, director of NEA's Health Information Network puts it, "There have been a number of well-known court cases that have ended with the admission that the student made up the accusation, but the media attention created a disquieting effect." Newberry says it's strong, trusting relationships that ultimately help teachers get over the fears, but he understands why they come about.

For Lam Nguyen, a ninth-grade political science teacher at Simley High School in Invergrove Heights, Minnesota, his tend to be around approaching girls when they dress inappropriately. "We're supposed to send students to the principal's office if we believe they're breaking the dress code," Nguyen, 31, explains, "but many of the guys here think that a girl's immediate response would be 'why are you looking at me anyway?'" So they avoid the situation entirely by discreetly calling a counselor to do the deed.

Callis West says he can relate. He's so cautious that "I just lay down the law" at the beginning of school and announce to the class: "I don't touch you, you don't touch me." If a girl is crying, he says,

"I don't even think of hugging her; I send her to the guidance counselor." This is easy to do in high school, he concedes. It's tougher for Amutan, who says he's perfected the art of the "sideway" hug with his fifth graders, and even then, "I'm careful." But stepping back is all but impossible for Jose Ibarra, 37, and his "touchy-feely" kindergartners at James Flood Elementary School near Palo Alto, California.

Ibarra says after seven years in the classroom, he's made peace with what he can and can't do--never, ever change a kid's clothes alone, for instance--but just figuring it out was touch and go. "When I first started...parents were unsure about leaving their children with me and would always ask whether there was another class with a female teacher. Nobody ever said 'because he's a guy,' but I knew." Yet as time went on, he says, parents came to know and appreciate his ebullient way with kids. It was, as Newberry might say, the "trust factor" coming into play. Now they love the structure he requires, and love as much the creative zeal he brings as a professional dancer.

That Male 'Energy'
"We're constantly moving and dancing and getting really crazy," says Ibarra. "I think some of my female colleagues think I get away with acting this way because I'm a guy, but it's who I am, and I don't know if I could teach if I had to be different."

Does he believe men in general have an intrinsically different, perhaps more free-wheeling, manner in class? Ibarra says he'd never say that, and what little research there is doesn't bear it out. But "I invite a lot of guests to the class," he offers, "and whenever a male comes, I mean the kids just love it! You see the difference in their response. It's like they crave that male energy at an early age."

Some male teachers, in fact, do speak of a distinctly "male" way--one that's perhaps a little more rough-and-tumble and less intense than for some women teachers. Men may be more prone, for example, to "high-five" their students, throw a playful jab, rib a little, hold off racing immediately to pick up kids when they fall. "I do catch myself being 'male' sometimes when I say, 'Ah, get up, you're O.K.!'" Ibarra says, laughing.

Ledbetter says he's constantly telling stories about things that happened in his life. "Guys like to tell stories." And if they're like him, they sing, too--a lot.

But Michael Pope contends it's really about personality differences. And that may be. On a visit to his Georgia middle school science class last Spring, this four-year teaching veteran could be found cracking jokes, making funny faces, pacing to and fro, all the while turning the explanation of a complicated scientific theory on ozone depletion into a joyous treat.

Even when test time came, frolic was in the air, as he launched, as if on cue, into this:

"You can look down in what?" he bellowed.

"Desperation!" the class answered, not skipping a beat.

"And up for what?

"Inspiration!"

"But if I catch you cheating or anything that's shady grady, you'll get zero with...?

"No hesitation!"

"We work hard--very hard," says Pope. "But my whole approach is to make this whole thing a jovial experience rather than something that's so structured and arduous."

The Discipline Lens
Still, if research doesn't support the theory of different styles, it does raise questions about whether men and women have different "set points" for what they see as problematic student behavior. Sally Shaywitz, M.D., a Yale University professor who directs the Connecticut Longitudinal Study, which has followed 445 students since 1983, says teachers were asked to rate students based on whether they were behaving in an expected range. Though boys are known to be more impulsive and restless than girls, she says, teachers consistently rated the boys "problematic" if they were outside the behavior norm for girls. "Now whether that reflects the fact that there are primarily women educators making that decision, I don't know," Shaywitz says. "But you'd have to think that a male teacher, having once been in that boy's shoes, might have a different perspective."

The links to achievement, she says, could be significant, for when teachers were told to identify students with reading problems, boys were identified three to four times as often as girls. Yet when those children were tested based on state reading guidelines, the scores of the boys and girls were comparable. "It seems boys were being identified based on behavior," she says.

Shaywitz concedes there's still much research to do, but her observations, says NEA's Eubanks, do speak to the "very real" issue of how discipline issues are handled in the classroom--and why male teachers often get leaned on more than others to handle problem kids. Some men report routinely getting assigned the more challenging kids, while others say they're expected to "chat" with kids who aren't even in their classes. Mason, for example, was designated chairman of the school discipline committee, and so receives kids from throughout the school who may be having a bad day. Like others, he insists he doesn't mind--showing the way is what he signed up for. But he does long for the days of yore when the "village" took care of a lot of all this.

Lonely Out There
For many men, says Eubanks, it can be a lot to process--the discipline stuff, the girl stuff, the teaching demands. So while it's critical to provide support for all teachers, men may need something extra: "They need to see themselves more and develop support systems with colleagues who share their experiences as male teachers," he says. Indeed, while many male teachers say they can roll with the little things--Greg Pugliese, who "used to be on construction sites every day," proudly remembers buying his first shower gift for a colleague--many say they could use a little male camaraderie at times.

Where possible, some have taken the initiative to help themselves along by doing what women have done for years: bond. Nguyen, for instance, started a "steak and ale" club of about a dozen guys from his Minnesota school. They meet up periodically and "talk about everything from teaching to sports, and I think it really helps." Just hearing what another man thinks, or would do, he says, is valuable. "We've gotten a lot of young teachers involved and they say it's one of the best things about the school."

Research does show that men, and women, too, are more inclined to stay in teaching if they have such support. (See "How We Find 'Em--and Keep 'Em"). But then, money can influence that, too. And while the men NEA Today talked to didn't shy away from saying they could all make more, few said they were about to exit because of it. Teaching, they said, simply did not mean the instant poverty some think it does.

"I've actually had boys confront me and say, 'but you don't make as much as an accountant or doctor! Why do you do this?'" says Nguyen. "And I say, 'well, I love the subject and the work, and I've found that if you learn to live within your means, you can have a pretty good life.'"

Enrico Amutan says this, in fact, is the message that needs to be spread to other potential male teachers--and he thinks men themselves could play a role in doing that. "We're all striving for improved working conditions and better salaries, but it does us a disservice to suggest to others that they should avoid this work for a better paying job," he says. "This can be so rewarding, and there are so many men out there who could be that stellar teacher."

Even Callis West, who admits to having agonized over whether he should go into administration--an expected route for many men--says it's not so much the money as the nagging feeling that he's "supposed" to do that for status. Now he's not so sure. "The truth is that I have status now," he says, smiling. "I have control. The kids look up to me. It's good."

--Marilyn Milloy

Why We Need 'Em

Men can be healthy role models for boys and girls alike. Yes, research shows that teachers' knowledge and skills are more important than gender and ethnicity, but "the value of seeing a professional male inside a classroom cannot be underestimated," says Jacob Mann, assistant executive director of Community Teachers Institute, a Washington-based nonprofit organization dedicated to bringing more African-American and Hispanic males to the classroom.

Men can be effective as "authority" figures for some kids who may respond to a male presence.

Men can often talk to boys and male teens in a way--and about subjects--that can easily get their attention.

Men can inspire parental interest in their child's education. Single mothers, for example, "see a man caring about their child, and that's a hook," says Mann. "When you tie the parent to the child's educational journey, there's just more potential for success."

Men can sometimes bring a different perspective and world view that might enhance a a child's education experience. "There's plenty of anecdotal evidence that suggests a diverse educational experience makes kids more well rounded and better prepared," says NEA's Segun Eubanks.

Get 'Em Young

High school recruitment programs target the next batch of future teachers.

By Kristen Loschert

Michelle Mostiler vividly remembers her first day as a teacher in 1991.

Then a nervous high school senior, Mostiler worried more about embarrassing herself in front of her new pupils than managing them. But after completing a high school teacher preparation class, Mostiler knew she had to teach. Now in her seventh year as a full-time teacher, Mostiler prepares the next crop of educators by leading the same teacher prep course that shaped her career path 12 years ago.

"The class made a huge impact on whether or not I wanted to teach," says Mostiler, at South Carolina's Hilton Head High School. "I hope I inspire that same passion for teaching in my teacher cadets. I hope they become educators."

The nation's schools hope so too, since half of all teachers are expected to retire or leave the profession in the next five to seven years. Schools need more men and minority educators and more teachers to work in poor urban and rural schools and in critical subjects such as math and science.

Developing comprehensive recruitment campaigns, improving the hiring process, and providing nontraditional routes into the profession will help attract some qualified candidates. Financial incentives such as increased teacher salaries, tuition or housing assistance, or bonuses for teachers in priority schools also offer some promise.

But these strategies usually target individuals already in the workforce or college. So, during the past decade, precollegiate programs that target students even at the elementary school level have become popular ways to encourage talented young people to become teachers. The programs, some initiated by NEA members and funded with Association grants, include after-school clubs, exploratory classes, and career academies.

Regardless of their format, these programs have the same purpose: get them while they're young.

"We have an obligation as classroom teachers to encourage bright young students to be educators," says Dee Sizemore, an advisor for the North Carolina Association of Educators' Future Teachers of America (FTA) club. "Lawyers and doctors are great, but we need great teachers, too. We need dynamic people in the classroom."

More than 250 precollegiate recruitment programs exist nationwide. The Teacher Cadet program, which Mostiler teaches, is one of the more popular ones. Teacher Cadets originated in South Carolina in 1985 as an introductory teaching course for juniors and seniors. Now, more than 30 states offer the program. The courses include instruction on child development, lesson planning, and classroom management, as well as field experiences with classroom teachers.

Recruiting young men into these programs can be challenging, though, says Mostiler. (About 20 percent of the South Carolina teacher cadets are male.) But, once they join the class, most young men see the rewards teaching offers.

"Kids respond differently to men, especially at the preschool and elementary levels. They look up to them," she says. "Often, the boys are overwhelmed by how much they can be role models, but they are inspired by that."

Precollegiate programs show great promise for recruiting more minority teachers as well, attracting 64 percent of their participants from minority ethnic groups, according to Recruiting New Teachers, Inc. Meanwhile, in teacher career academies nearly 70 percent of students are minorities.

The Teacher Academy at A.B. Miller High School in Fontana, California, offers students a three-year teacher preparation curriculum. Funded by an NEA Teacher Recruitment Partnership Grant, the academy started two years ago as an extension of the California Teacher Association's Club Ed, which provides an extracurricular program for K-12 students interested in teaching. At the teacher academy, students learn about classroom management, learning styles, lesson planning, and state standards. Students also complete an internship with a classroom teacher.

In Massachusetts, the Durfee High School Teacher Academy gives 11th- and 12th-grade students a taste of the teaching profession. With an NEA Teacher Recruitment Partnership Grant, the Fall River Education Association partnered with the local school system, Bristol Community College, and Bridgewater State College to offer a complete academic pathway to teacher certification. Students enrolled in the high school academy can take additional classes at the community college for free and then attend Bridgewater State College at reduced cost, says Joyce Mauretti, a teacher academy instructor.

"It's important to get them at this age because they are open minded," she says. "If you can get the love of teaching in them, they'll have that all the years they teach."

But the teaching experiences don't end when the last bell rings. The Future Hispanic Educators Program at Poudre High School in Fort Collins, Colorado, offers Hispanic students after-school jobs as elementary school tutors. Many of the students also receive summer jobs assisting English as a Second Language teachers. The program has operated for the past six years with NEA grants.

State Associations in Alabama, Arkansas, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas also sponsor after-school clubs for middle and high school students interested in teaching. Some clubs offer tutoring opportunities, local or statewide conferences, and college scholarships.

"Our objective is to grow our own," says Nancy Wilkinson, chairperson of the NCAE Future Teachers of America program. "The FTA chapters help us get students interested and they become more eager to learn about the teaching profession."

While future teachers programs convince many teens to trade in their comic books for grade books, most programs lose a few students along the way. But students who decide not to become educators still benefit by learning early on that teaching is not for them. More importantly, school systems gain informed community members who appreciate the work of educators.

"We understand that they'll not all be teachers," says Susan Martin, former chairperson of the NCAE FTA committee. "But they will become parents who understand the education system, school board members who support it, and county commissioners who understand its importance.

"They gain a better understanding and love for teaching, whether they go into the classroom or not."

How We Find 'Em and Keep 'Em

Recruiting and retaining male and minority teachers require much of what it takes to get and keep any qualified teacher. The emphasis, though, must shift in some cases.

Identify and recruit boys and minorities in middle and high school (see "Get 'Em Young"). Send the message that they are needed, and that teaching is not just women's work.

Influence the public perception about the value of teaching generally and the importance in having male and minority teachers in particular. Public campaigns and personal dialogue that get out the message to young men that teaching can be cool--and safe--can go a long way.

Address the wage gap--for all teachers.

Support nontraditional routes to certification. The Pathways to Teaching Program, based at Armstrong State University in Savannah and geared to paraeducators seeking certification, is one example. Says Evelyn Dandy, a former director, "programs like these provide tuition and books, mentoring and networking opportunities--all the things you need to help you jump hurdles that may get in the way of success."

Provide financial incentives--bonuses for staying, mentoring responsibilities, or teaching in hard-to-staff schools--and stipends for professional development.

Nurture teachers when they're new, with supports such as well-trained mentors and additional release and planning time.

Find out about more ideas and programs that work: Download NEA's Meeting the Challenge of Recruitment and Retention by visiting www.nea.org/teachershortage/.

Minority Dilemma:
Stickyissue, Promising Solutions

When Robert Mason first took his teacher certification test several years ago, he was "extremely" nervous. He admits he had a lot on his mind: He was in the process of a move to Georgia, where his wife and son were waiting, he was going though some life-turning changes, and he hadn't zoned in on what to expect.

The result: he didn't pass. A graduate from the school of education at Kentucky State University and a paraeducator at the time, Mason knew what he had to do. He re-armed, studied a bit more, and relaxed. And when he took it again (in Georgia), he passed with flying colors--even went on to become one of the most distinguished teachers at his Georgia school.

Unfortunately, many other teachers of color have no such luck. The failure rate on teacher certification and licensing tests, data show, is disproportionately higher for African-Americans and other minorities than for whites--so much so that NEA leaders say it is imperiling efforts to keep this already sparse pool of teachers in the ranks.

"It makes for quite a revolving door," says Segun Eubanks, director of NEA's Teacher Quality Department. Many minorities come to the classroom on a provisional contract, with 3 to 5 years to become certified, he explains. But for reasons researchers are still trying to understand, many fail--literally--to make the grade. Unfortunately, says Eubanks, the greatest impact is felt among the students who need attention the most: academically struggling urban kids in predominately minority school districts.

"Theirs are the schools that are hardest to staff," he notes, "but the teachers most willing to go there are usually minority--and also the least experienced."

So troubling is the problem that NEA set about to find out what might be hobbling these teacher candidates at test time and how it might help. It started, says Nesa Chappelle, an NEA senior policy analyst, with the knowledge that debate still rages around whether such tests are culturally biased--a huge factor, many experts contend, in the high failure rates. "But we wanted to make a difference as quickly as we could," says Chappelle.

So two years ago NEA launched a pilot program in five states. State affiliates selected participants for a five-day test training session, and the findings were startling.

For starters, fear and anxiety among the participants was off the chart. "They were so uptight--to the point some became ill," Chappelle says. "Headaches, nausea, freezing up--it was all there." That prompted consultation with an anxiety expert, and the upcoming publication of a resource for NEA members: Files of Promise for the Head and Heart: How to Reduce Test Anxiety and Achieve Your Goals. The book, co-authored by Chappelle, will be available by winter.

Anxiety, however, did not prove to be the only problem. Inadequate test preparation--simply not studying long enough--was one. Significantly, so were deficiencies in essay writing, math, and English. More than any, this one gave analysts pause, says Chappelle, because it affirmed what research has shown over and again: that urban disadvantaged schools--from where many minority teachers hail--still struggle to provide the level of resources and skill-building that make their students competitive.

"It does raise questions about what's happening in some of our public schools and schools of education, that we're not giving our members important skills," says Chappelle. For example, she says, many African-American teachers come from the South, where schools are still battling decades-long vestiges of segregation.

To help address some of these problems, NEA has awarded six $10,000 grants to state affiliates to develop creative test-taking support programs for NEA members. Results will be monitored closely to determine if these sorts of approaches work.

"All this is extremely important under the new Elementary and Secondary Education Act," says Chappelle. "In some states, if you don't pass these tests, you're gone--out of the profession. It's serious business."

Getting 'Brothers' on Board to Teach

In South Carolina, a paltry 1 percent of the public school teachers are African-American males, and 27-year-old Mark Joseph is dead set on changing that. He's a part of an ingenious, much-heralded college program that grooms guys like him to become elementary school teachers.

Cleverly dubbed Call Me Mister, the Clemson University-based program offers tuition assistance to African-American men who "may not have found their purpose in life," yet demonstrate promise as teachers, says field director Winston Holton. Its hallmark is its focus on academic rigor and mentoring--lots of it--through weekly rap sessions, group study sessions, social activities and intern opportunities. The catch: When the "misters" graduate, they must teach in a South Carolina public school--at least one year for every year they received tuition.

No sweat, says Joseph, an NEA Student Program member who graduates in May 2004 along with about 15 other guys. "It's been one of the best experiences I've ever had," he says. "They really look to develop us as professional Black men, but also as community-minded men and as men who can be role models for others."

As with all the students, Joseph shuttles to Clemson for some of the group activities, but he's officially enrolled in the school of education at Claflin State College in Orangeburg. Other men study at the other historically Black colleges--Benedict College in Columbia and Morris College in Sumter.

The effort to get them there is not easy, Holton says, mainly because of staid societal views about men and teaching. And so Holton and others go everywhere--to high schools, conferences, and career fairs to make their case. They once even showed up on the Oprah Winfrey Show--albeit for an honor.

"We talk to the guys a lot about why it's so important to become central figures in little kids' lives...and just generally challenge them to use their lives to serve others," says Holton. "We also talk about the educational system in this state and the changes that need to be made." And that almost always touches a chord. "A lot of these young men came through a system that really didn't speak to their specific needs....This historically has been an agrarian, field-based community; the focus has been raising mill workers and farm hands."

But leaders in the program hardly view this as a roadblock. "Our idea was that if we could take these guys in and shore up their deficiencies, who better to understand what that next child is going through than a person who is only recently removed?"

Joseph, who is from Greenville, said at the time he heard about the program, he was grappling with "what I would do with my life." He'd already found his way to an elementary school as a teacher's assistant and was volunteering at an after-school program. But he could not imagine the passion that would flow around teaching until he became a "mister."

"Now I can truly say this is what I was destined to do," he says.

--M.M.