I was born and raised in Mexico by a loving family. I am a mother of two great girls, 8 and 15 years old, and happily married. I have always deeply valued education and the opportunities it provides. I have admired the United States since I was a child. I always thought of the United States as an ethical and moral nation, a country that values diversity, a country that protects human rights and free speech, and a country that promotes education as the primary factor for the personal growth, social well-being, and success of its citizens. So, when I came to the United States I decided to get certified to teach math in high school.

In the summer of 2014, I had finally completed the last mathematics class in a post-baccalaureate program that would qualify me to teach mathematics at the secondary level. On Thursday, August 21, 2014, I sent an email to the Director of Human Resources for the San Felipe Del Rio CISD, to see if there were any openings for a mathematics substitute teacher. She responded quickly to my email and asked if I could come see her tomorrow. I was surprised by her prompt response and her request to meet with me. I had only inquired about a substitute position. The next day, Friday, I met with her and she told me that the district needed math teachers; she asked if I would be interested in teaching full time as a mathematics teacher at Del Rio High School. I said yes. As I left her office, I thought to myself that all the years of struggling to learn a new language and the countless hours of study required to take advanced mathematics classes had finally paid off. I was going to be a teacher in the United States. I was elated.

I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my family. I had chosen education as a profession because of the high value I had always placed on education. I had immigrated to the United States from Mexico, in part, because of the educational opportunities it afforded my children. As the mother of two girls, I wanted to give them all the opportunities to make a good life. Furthermore, after immigrating to the United States, I had married a teacher. My husband, Richard Davis, is an instructor of mathematics at Southwest Texas Junior College. So, when I received the call on Saturday to say that I had been hired as a teacher at the Board Meeting the previous evening, I was happy and excited.

I began my teaching career on August 26, 2014. I arrived at Del Rio High School early. I remember entering my classroom for the first time. It was rather barren, but with a little work I felt I could brighten it up. The room had computers facing the wall in a U-configuration with my desk at the front of the room. I was surprised as I was expecting a room of desks facing to the front, like you would find in a traditional classroom. I had little time to process this information, for I was immediately met by my supervisor. She introduced herself and led me to her office, which was directly across the hall from my room, where she informed me of my duties. She told me that I had been hired to teach mathematics in a program known as ACAP. The Alternative Credit Accrual Program (ACAP) is designed to allow students who have dropped out to return and finish high school by completing their missing credits via a credit accrual program.

My supervisor, whose official title was ACAP Counselor, informed me that my duties were to help students gain high school credit by passing tests on an online courseware, which is used to impart course content and to assess the student’s mastery of the material through various testing instruments such as Mastery Tests, Unit Posttests, and an End of the Semester Test. She told me to assist students on all assignments and to help them on all the tests. I felt disappointed because I wanted to teach students the necessary skills to pass the tests, not to do the tests for the student, which I consider cheating. But I thought that maybe this is the way public education works in the United States. I did not know what credit recovery was before I started, so I did my job as I was told. As a math teacher, I confined myself mainly to helping students with math. Although I helped them through the tests, I did take the opportunity to explain each problem thoroughly.

These first few months would be my happiest time as a teacher. I helped students with their mathematics coursework and witnessed them learning. I enjoyed my students immensely. My class consisted of a diverse population of students. Besides students from the ACAP program, I had students from the Migrant Education Program, as well as traditional high school students who were earning credits through the Credit Recovery Program. Many times, a student would thank me for teaching them a mathematical concept; for example, they would tell me that for the first time they understood how to find a vertex or that now they knew how to solve a quadratic equation. These are the things that make the teaching profession worthwhile and satisfying. But, I felt helpless to assist the students in other courses, specifically science courses such as Physics and Chemistry. I tried my best. I would get out the Physics textbook and try to learn the material so that I could teach it to them. But, as any teacher knows, learning takes time. And it was this dichotomy between expedience and learning that would lead to conflict.

My supervisor began bringing me to her office to tell me to go faster. I told her that I was going as fast as I could but that it took time to explain mathematical concepts adequately. She seemed unmoved by my words. Then, in November 2014, two other teachers were assigned to my room. We got along well at first, but I did notice that our teaching styles were different. While I continued to take the time to teach the course content, these teachers would sit down with a student, read a test question and then tell the student the correct answer, or what they thought was the correct answer. My thoughts came fast and furious. Firstly, how did they know Physics and Chemistry. One was a Social Studies teacher and the other was an English teacher. I was amazed at their ability to correctly answer test questions in Chemistry and Physics. I was especially confused how they knew the answers to Physics questions that were largely mathematical in context. Because it soon became apparent to me that neither of them knew how to do mathematics beyond basic algebra. Secondly, why did they not use these tests as teaching opportunities; instead, they chose to just recite answers and, unfortunately, the students did not seem to mind. By this method, with no explanation of the problem, the student could finish a test and thereby a course at a much faster rate. I felt it my duty to inform my supervisor about what was happening.

Meeting with my supervisor on December 11, 2014, I expressed my concern to her that I witnessed other teachers in my room giving students the answers for their online courses without any explanation of the problem. I told her I did not agree with this practice. I said that I want to teach math, not just give them the answers. She remained quiet. I then said that my career goal is to teach math in a classroom. She responded that I would not be a successful classroom teacher because, in her words, I can’t speak proper English. This was the opening shot in the war that would soon engulf my professional life and forever alter my view of the teaching profession. At the time, I thought that I could convince administration that what we were doing was not in the best interests of the students and their education. The reader must forgive my naiveite.  I had been a teacher for only three months. Nonetheless, I readied myself for battle. Oh yea, one more thing: my supervisor’s sister just happened to be the principal at Del Rio High School. Fasten your seat belts!

Returning from Christmas break, my supervisor began her offensive. On January 16^th, 2015, she wanted me to sign an Intervention Plan that indicated areas in which I needed to improve. I disagreed with the assessment and refused to sign. I appealed to a vice principal, telling him that the assertions made by my supervisor in the intervention plan were not true. After further discussion, he eventually convinced me to sign an amended version later that day. I asked him why he wanted me to sign the Intervention Plan. He said that he had tried to defend me to the principal, saying “I have no problem with Mrs. Davis.” He then related to me that the principal—his direct supervisor—said, “You go and do it! You go talk to [my sister] and do it!”

In February, I received a request—via my supervisor—from the Director of Human Resources, asking to meet with her “to review certification.” I arrived at her office at 8:00 AM on February 16, 2015 to discuss certification.  Her first words were, “We have issues” with your work.  Surprised, I said, “Issues?” She then said that my supervisor had informed her that I could not control my class. I responded that this was not true and that she was welcome to look at all my walkthroughs and my evaluations. I informed her that I had all documentation that pertained to my performance in the classroom and that nothing indicated the things she stated. She seemed perplexed and told me to continue to keep documentation. I told her that my supervisor seemed to have a problem with me but it was not because of the reasons stated. I would have told her the real reason why my supervisor had tried to isolate me but I did not trust her to believe me since she had accepted my supervisor’s evaluation of me without one shred of evidence.

At this point I knew I was isolated. I thought of quitting but instead I chose to fight. I’ll leave it to the reader’s judgment to determine if that was a wise decision. I began to demand and scrutinize documentation to better protect myself. Since the beginning of the year, my supervisor had given me verbal directives to count students present who were absent. So, I began keeping my own attendance records and I asked my supervisor to send me emails that affirmed her directive. Surprisingly, she obliged and sent me the emails. I then began to download reports in which students had completed a test or an entire course in an amazingly short time.

In April, the son of the principal (and thus the nephew of my supervisor) began working full-time as a tutor in credit recovery. Now I was not only surrounded by a culture but a family. It felt like a scene out of one of the Godfather movies. But there I was, engulfed by educators who thought little of giving students answers to tests, counting students present who were in fact absent, and punishing anyone who questioned them. Yes, I had learned a lot in my first eight months as a public-school teacher. Unfortunately, it had little to do with academics or learning theory.

My refusals to participate in the shortcuts to success, i.e., giving students the answers to their tests without any explanation or evidence of learning, intensified their attempts to isolate and discredit me as a teacher. I still find this perplexing. I mean, I was doing the tests for/with the students. Their main complaint seemed to be that I was not supplying the answers fast enough. One attempt to isolate me led to a direct confrontation with the principal. On April 28^th, at the end of the day, my supervisor told me that she and the other two teachers in ACAP would be absent for the next two days. My supervisor had chosen them to attend a conference on the future of the ACAP program. I sent my supervisor an email asking if ACAP would be provided with any substitutes for those days. This simple request would set off a wave of anger that would ripple all the way to the principal’s office.

I arrived in my classroom the morning of April 29^th to find that two substitutes had been assigned to my room. I informed the substitutes of their duties and the day began. It was a day like any other until the beginning of the 8^th period. The principal came into my room, admonishing two students to stop talking. She then began yelling at the entire class, warning them that if they did not finish their courses they would have to attend summer school. I was helping a student when her tirade began, so I turned to face her and give her my full attention. Very quickly, she turned to me and yelled, “And you Ms. Davis, just because the other teachers are not here does not mean you can let the students do what they want. You have two substitute teachers there. Put them to work!” Then she left. One of the substitutes turned to me and said, “Ms. Davis, who is that woman!” I said, “That is the principal.” A look of disbelief flashed across his face; then, he said, “How can she treat us this way?”

Yes indeed, I thought the same: “How can she treat us this way!” I was not a twenty-something, fresh-out-of-college kid when I took this job. I had performed many jobs in the past, everything from fast food worker to pharmaceutical sales representative. But I had never been treated this way by a supervisor. After consulting with my husband, I felt that I had to file a formal grievance against the principal. I did not take this step lightly. I knew there would be repercussions. But I felt I must preserve my professional dignity. While my husband was supportive of the decision, my co-workers looked at me with disbelief. Perhaps they knew what I would soon find out: my supervisor’s vengeful streak was apparently a family trait that she had picked up from her older sister.

The grievance hearing was set for May 12, 2015. Administration did not even have the patience to delay the retaliation until after the hearing. On May 11, my current position—Mathematics (ACAP) Teacher—was posted under the open positions section of the SFDRISD Employment page. I brought this up in the grievance hearing. The principal assured me that it was a mistake. The Chief Instructional Officer for Secondary Education, who presided over the grievance hearing, stated for the record, “I can assure you that as soon as we walk out of here, we are gonna go back and correct” the error. The job remained posted until the closing date of May 26, 2015. Later, after I was not replaced, it occurred to me that this was not a direct threat against me; in fact, it was a message to all district employees, especially teachers, that this is what happens when you file a grievance. Oh yea, I almost forgot. One of the remedies granted by SFDRCISD in the complaint: “Granted: You will not have any retaliation because of this complaint.” Even I did not believe that one. See, I am learning.

Two days after the grievance hearing, May 14, 2015, I was summoned to appear before two Vice Principals. Upon entering the office, I was told that I had been brought there for a very serious matter. My online courseware password had been used to grant credit to a student in six credit recovery courses, among which was an entire year of English IV. I was asked to explain myself. I told them I did not know who stole my password, whether it was the student or someone else. I assured them that I would never willingly participate in a scheme that would grant high school credit without some evidence that learning had taken place. I encouraged them to investigate the matter thoroughly because I wanted to know who had done this. Although the student vehemently denied stealing my password, I was told never to discuss this with the student and let them investigate the matter. I continued to follow up on the progress of the investigation. I was given no information. I was later told that the investigation had found nothing, that the credits in question had already been granted to the student, and that state guidelines would not allow the credits to be taken away. So just like that, the matter was dropped.  The student accumulated six semester credits in a matter of weeks and the senior graduating class welcomed a new member; everyone was happy.  Ah, the bliss of the educational experience.

As the graduation deadline loomed, the pressure to get students credits so they could graduate accelerated. But I, the old stick in the mud, continued to question the online courseware reports that showed students completing tests in unbelievable times.  Whether it was a student completing an End-of-Semester Geometry test of 44 questions in 15 minutes with a score of 93%, or a student completing an Algebra 2 End-of-Semester test of 33 questions in 11 minutes with a score of 88%, I remained the lone dubious voice in credit recovery. When I would say I can’t approve this course credit unless I see the student’s work, they would roll their eyes, take the report to another certified math teacher and get them to sign. Perhaps, they took it to a veteran teacher who had learned how to play the game; perhaps they took it to a new teacher whose fear compelled them to sign. I do not know; I never found out. But the credits awarded in credit recovery rose to tremendous levels. During 2014-2015, over 1000 semester credits were awarded through credit recovery, mostly to seniors who needed to graduate.

They devised strategies to obviate my resistance. They began holding after school sessions—where the teachers were well paid—to operate freely without my presence. For these sessions, they brought out the stars of the program, those whom my supervisor referred to as the “angels” of credit recovery.  These teachers even volunteered their time to meet with students at a local pizza restaurant to help students finish their courses. The results speak for themselves. One student finished an entire semester of Geometry during one Saturday pizza session, culminating with a truly stunning performance on the End-of-Semester Test: 44 questions in 11 minutes and 20 seconds with a score of 84%. I know that replicas and drawings of pizzas are used to teach geometrical principals, but what these teachers (none were math certified) accomplished is truly miraculous; they should teach their technique in education programs.

On May 19^th, I discovered the secret to these teachers’ scientific prowess. Throughout the year, when a student had trouble with Chemistry or Physics, my supervisor would direct them to one of these teachers, saying, she is very knowledgeable in those subjects. At 10:45 AM, during this teacher’s conference period, a student gave me a notebook containing handwritten answers to all five of the Integrated Physics & Chemistry Unit Tests. The student then asked if I could give it back to the teacher in question. I made a copy of the handwritten answers and then gave the notebook back to the teacher as requested.  The next day, May 20^th, I was moved to another room. The “angels” could now operate freely for the remainder of the semester. Two days later, I was summoned to the office of a Vice Principal. He informed me that my husband, who had been volunteering his time the entire school year to tutor high school students, would no longer be allowed on campus. It’s a good thing that they had promised in the grievance hearing that there would be no retaliation; just think how bad it could have been.

As I finished the year in my new room with my allotted students (all had finished their course work and there was nothing to do except babysit), I began to contemplate informing the Texas Education Agency of my experience as a credit recovery teacher in the San Felipe Del Rio Consolidated Independent School District. Nevertheless, I did use this time to connect with the students I been given. Since they were all finished with their courses, we had time to talk. I asked them about their future. I mentored, I advised; it was a nice respite from the battles that had been raging. It also provided me with one final story to share with the reader. My supervisor had ordered that my students remain in the classroom at all times; they were not even allowed to go to lunch. She said if they want to eat they would have to bring their lunch. So, I promised the students that I would buy them pizza for the last day of school. That day arrived and I made good on my promise. As we were eating our pizza, my supervisor showed up outside my door, motioning for me to come outside. I did so. She informed me that I was violating school policy by feeding the students and that I could be reprimanded. “But,” she continued, “I will let it go with a warning.” What a relief, I don’t know what a reprimand would feel like.

The year ended. My first year as a Texas public school teacher was officially over. But the exciting part of the story is just beginning. I decided to use my summer vacation to collect and catalogue the evidence that would expose the cheating scheme that was taking place in the credit recovery and credit accrual programs at Del Rio High School. Surely, once the Texas Education Agency (TEA) knew what I knew, they would ride to the rescue and truth and justice would prevail. Yea, I know what you’re thinking: She still has a lot to learn. Yes indeed; in fact, my education was in many ways just beginning. Tune in for Year 2.