Who's the Boss? Tony Danza with the help of his Co-Teacher, of course.

Boys and girls: before we begin, it may be helpful to start humming the tune of "Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer."

Got it? Good.

And now, because it's only natural, please substitute "Tiny Dancer" with "Tony Danza."

Great. Good job.

And now, because it's most likely going to happen whether you like it or not, please replace "Hold me closer" with "Teach me English."

Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer

Hold me closer, Tony Danza

Teach me English, Tony Danza

Maybe Tony can use these statements when teaching the difference between interrogative, declarative and imperative sentences.

Yep. Tony Danza is going to be an English teacher for one academic year, er, one television season. While school officials make their final decision on whether or not they'll allow such a thing, Tony is currently attending new-teacher orientation at one urban Philadelphia high school.

This potential entry into the classroom is to be the premise for a reality television show on A&E called Teach. In this article , Tony admits to being utterly terrified of entering the classroom. I mean, why shouldn't he be, really?

My initial reaction to this news went from ecstatic to irritated to kind of giddy all rather quickly. Of course, I (who happen to be writing a book about public education) feel an urgency to put schools back on stage -- particularly the schools and the classrooms that need the most help. But really? Tony Danza? Teaching English? Really? Who is this reality show about? The unqualified teacher? The career-confused actor? The failing and flailing students? (Only half of the students in this particular district are proficient in reading and math). Or, will this show simply display the unfortunate and common spectacle that occurs when a rookie with no experience is placed in one of the toughest classrooms in the country?

Tony Danza, I wonder if you know that this little scenario you've cooked up is not especially extraordinary. It is entirely banal and typical. Every fall, thousands of new teachers hang their posters on their bulletin boards and only some of them are more qualified than you. I hope that scares you at least a little bit. Sure, you were once a television star, but once your novelty wears off, you will simply be what we all start out as: the terrified and well-intentioned teacher who resolves to tap dance his or her way across the chalkboard backdrop of that underfunded, under-resourced classroom.

If this experiment works (and I mean the documentary-like exposure rather than Tony's ability to Michelle Pfeiffer his way into the rapping hearts of his students), I think this show could be amazing. Teaching is a show. It's a performance. It has to be. Those who are handed the red pen must parade around the front of the room with a confidence that is often a complete sham. That Helping Verb Hand Jive isn't going to teach itself, now is it?

This is what Tony has to say: "My goal is to be a really good teacher...If we can be really real about it and really honest about it and put the kids first and really show what a teacher goes through, it might be something that is a positive." Well put, Mr. Danza. I only hope that Tony's charade is as gritty and terrifying as it should be. After all, certified or not, actor or not, who is ever truly ready for what happens in any classroom? And, this process of learning and crying and laughing and quitting and grading and starting all over again should be something we all get to cringe at from the comfort of our IKEA couch.

19. Interview Someone...Like the President

An 11 year old interviews President Obama on issues in Education. His right foot taps when he's asking a question, and I think the only time he strays from his notes is when he passionately declares, "I love mangos." But overall, I think he was much calmer and pulled together than I'd ever be in a million years. Adorable and applicable all at once...

The Cart Lady

I haven't been blogging because I'm furiously trying to accumulate 200 pages of my manuscript so that I can spend the year revising. I thought I'd share a snippet of the beginning of a piece I'm writing about my second first day as a teacher - when the hurricane mess calmed a little bit and I was handed a shiny new class all my own. It's called Borrowed. Here is the intro...

It wasn’t until three weeks in that I became the cart lady, the traveling teacher, the education vendor. Just short of an actual bell or melody of ice cream truck tunes to lure children toward my vehicle of educational treats, my cart had the look of a concession stand at the circus or the food trolley on planes and trains and downtown plazas. Frank the Focused Flamingo, a hot pink Beanie Baby, sat with his legs dangling off the left edge of my cart. He was to sit on the desks of only the most attentive, engaged pupils as the ultimate reward. The Good Karma bucket, a recycled popcorn pail that I kept stashed with both used and unused raffle tickets and a purple bingo marker, took its post right beside the flamingo. The bucket was like Frank – a bright motivational tool that could win you prizes through good, kind deeds. For balance, a plastic three-tiered organizational system occupied the middle of the top shelf. And thirty sixth grade literature textbooks were stacked on the bottom two shelves – heavy and bulky to slow my sharp turns and keep me rolling at an appropriate pace down the hallways to my borrowed classroom...