Adam Patric Miller: A Teacher’s Mini-Observation

It’s near the end of April, so my teacher’s desk is a mess. Unshelved books, half-empty jars of tea leaves. I’ve scribbled on every scrap of paper.  My officemate says to a student, “You’re paper is now at about a B+.” The bells have been ringing or not ringing because we’re giving state tests. The state is checking to see how my sophomores read and write in comparison to the other sophomores around the state. Giving the test, some of the headphones don’t work. One student can’t submit her work because she’s been locked out by technology. My seniors are revving up for the prom this weekend with AP testing around the corner. Many will spend their last week in high school taking those expensive tests. The College Board earns billions. I signed my contract to teach another year. It may be my last because I’m angry about a pop-in mini-observation where the administrator focused on how kids were sneaking a look at cellphones by the window, one student used his laptop to check in on the Masters golf tournament, and another dozed while sitting straight up in his seat. The administrator wrote, “…many of your students are missing out on good teaching as they are disengaged, either with phones, video or heads down (some appear to be dozing off).” Before I say more about how American education is failing—and so, clearly, am I—let me add the mini-observation occurred during the last class on a Friday.

But no excuses. I should have been whirling around the class snatching iPhones. Better yet, I should have had rules in place for iPhones from day one. Actually, I did. After a few months, students and I gave up on placing phones in a plastic holder by the door. In fact, we don’t know what happened to the plastic phone holder. It’s gone. My student who was watching video of the Masters, I’d talked to him about that three times before the administrator arrived and I should have confiscated his laptop…again. My student with the headphones on in the front of the room—a special arrangement for only Fridays if he doesn’t have them on during class all week and they’re not even playing music because it’s more a coping mechanism for reasons I won’t get into here—yes, he put his head down. I nudged him but also knew he was working on Willy Wonka for the school show and wasn’t getting sleep. Strike that, reverse it. I haven’t been getting much sleep because tornadic winds blew most of the roof off of our home and the insurance adjuster said they would cover $8,500 in damages and the first estimate to fix the roof was $25,000. There was another student with headphones on—I often catch him playing chess during class. I should threaten him and his grade but he’s a top student and I kind of enjoy trying to catch him. He speaks fluent French and shakes his head when I share my college French with the class.

What was the lesson the day of the mini-observation? The curriculum tells me I must teach “the Bible as/in Literature.” I’ve learned to like teaching the stories from the Bible as they relate to the literature we’ve studied. That was the set-up the administrator missed. Holden Caulfield’s favorite character in the Bible is Legion who cuts himself with stones because he’s possessed by demons. Richard Wright’s epigraph to Black Boy comes from The Book of Job: “His strength shall be hunger-bitten,/And destruction shall be ready at his side.” Tim O’Brien has a character who refers to Vietnam during the war as The Garden of Evil: “Over here, man, every sin’s real fresh and original.” Macbeth is compared to the brightest angel that fell. Anyway, we were learning about Samson, his power and his hair. I’d just shown my class a film clip of David using his slingshot against Goliath when the door at the back of the classroom opened. Was any of it sticking to the brains of my sixteen-year-old students? When and how does education happen for any student? How do you measure it? My student who I tried to wake in the way Jesus managed to get Lazarus up and going, I know he’s up until 1 a.m. or later every night working on his YouTube dreams. I told him I want to write him a college recommendation but he needs to get more sleep. I tell him how science proves starting school for teenage brains at 8 a.m. is not a good choice, but he’s got to do better. He seems to understand but I don’t expect him to figure this out yet. Maybe when I see him as a senior if I’m still teaching.

The American system of education is a wreck. Wealthy schools have a criminally unfair advantage, students are conditioned to adopt a transaction mindset where they only know to peck, peck, peck for the grade. It’s not their fault. We test, test, test. We don’t acknowledge in any meaningful way that all students learn differently at different times, that they need to be nurtured, cared for, inspired, and understood. We’ve let their brains be wired directly into their iPhones. Administrators don’t have the guts to ban cellphones but expect teachers to spend every day swinging wildly at the slithering AI tech we’re supposed to embrace. The unannounced drop-in mini-observation absolves administrators from taking any direct action other than scrawling notes about the surface of a problem that goes back to the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Teaching requires deep knowledge, forgiveness, patience, understanding and yes, some Old Testament retribution—but maybe not in April on a Friday during the last class before a state test.  

Copyright 2025 Adam Patric Miller

Adam Patric Miller has taught high school for 25 years in three states and currently teaches in St. Louis. He is the author of the book A Greater Monster, a collection of essays selected by Phillip Lopate which won the Autumn House Press Nonfiction Prize.