Don't know if I have blogged about this article before or not. But it is powerful. The governor thought he could create more quality teachers by letting any degreed person take a summer course and then throw them in the classroom. Here's Nicky Lancaster's story from the AJC (Atlanta Journal and Constitution).

I have worked in high stress situations before--Wall Street, television, radio. But never have I experienced a workplace more fraught with demands, deadlines and accountability than in a classroom full of second-graders.
I went into teaching with high hopes and expectations. Sadly, after a year I am no longer in the classroom, and I thought I would be. In the end I was overwhelmed, worn down and exhausted.

After a day with my children in school I had nothing left for my own family--nothing. This was the hardest job I had ever done, with very few resources or support. Had there been more meaningful support available in the classroom, I would still be there.

I applied to the Atlanta Public Schools' "fast track" teacher training program, and amazingly was one of 70 (out of 3,500) midcareer professionals accepted. After only five weeks of intense training, reality hit me. Every day from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. I was at the school. (Forget the myth of teachers leaving at 3 p.m.)

After school were meetings, planning and coursework. From 7:50 a.m. each day, I was on my feet, performing, entertaining, inspiring, energizing, while being constantly vigilant.

I was responsible for teaching a rigorous curriculum to a class of 16 children with a variety of skill levels. I had one child reading at sixth-grade level, while others did not speak English. How was I supposed to teach these children?

We were given a lot of theories in the five-week course about "differentiated instruction." Theory and reality are two different things. Juggling 16 children with different skill levels is not easy. I am a typical middle-class overachiever. I am used to success. Here I was drowning. Sixteen children were bringing me down, and there was no help in sight.

My class was half African-American and half Hispanic. I had been given little, if any, instruction on how to teach and reach Hispanic children, most of whom did not speak fluent English. The school system has yet to fully comprehend the impact of the new racial mix in our schools.

Unfortunately, I do not s peak Spanish, which in my school would have been very helpful. There were many frantic times when I had three children all trying to interpret to a desperately unhappy and concerned parent why her angel was failing in math, or why her angel was not cooperating with the teacher and losing classroom privileges.

My responsibility to these children weighed heavily. I was on my own in the classroom and I had to deliver. Five weeks of training was not going to cut it. Between trying to figure out how to deliver instruction, how to manage the classroom so that I could deliver instruction, coursework, administration meetings, workshops and paperwork, it wiped me out--blew away the dream. We had been promised support, mentoring--someone to assist us. It never came.

Many of my colleagues have left teaching and the program. I now have enormous respect for excellent teachers. They manage the impossible, and no one has a clue. People can fuss all they want about test scores, standards, failing schools, successful schools, legislation and more, but in the end it is the teachers--the front line in our classrooms--and they are all alone.