Abbott Elementary and the Problem of TV Teachers

Abbott Elementary is the surprise hit of the year, particularly for teachers. The teachers are human beings, the stories are relatable while being recognizable for teachers. It adapts school life well to the mockumenbtary workplace comedy format, even if it hews too close to the formula in some places (the show blares its intention to run a long-simmering plotline in which the main character will eventually dump her bad boyfriend, Jim-and-Pamming her way to the fellow teacher who has a crush on her). 

If you haven't seen it, you should. Scrambling for supplies, finding the resources you need, navigating the tension between your idealism and reality, working as a veteran teacher in the brave new world of education in the 2020s-- those are all here, as well as the painful learning of lessons by all parties. Also, students who look and act like actual students. It is that extremely rare show about teaching created by people who appear to actually get it.

It's so smart and on point and just right about teaching (as right as it can be in 22 minutes a shot) that it makes you wonder why television so often gets teaching wrong in shows. 

Part of the challenge is, of course, that teaching is largely mundane and packed with things that are only exciting if you are a teacher. There's also the challenge of story-- because teachers are, in many ways, not the center of their own stories, but supporting characters in the stories of their students. And of course, television limits the size of a cast; it would be hard to work all of a high school English teachers 175 students into a single series--and then recast them every year.

Perhaps those limitations are why they are so many classroom misfires in the history of tv. 

Teaching as a profession is sometimes used to provide some backstory for a character. Ted Mosby, Ross Geller, and Jessica Day (Zooey Deschanel on New Girl) are all nominally teachers, and yet other than generating the occasional plot device, teaching doesn't really get much attention and certainly doesn't factor in realistic details like grading papers or scraping by on small pay. This idea of teaching as a sort of character background detail goes all the way back to Our Miss Brooks, a 1950s hit from Desilu Studies starring Eve Arden as a teacher who has some co-workers, a boss and generally just one student (played by in-hi-slate-twenties Richard Crenna). Clara Oswold is a teacher, but somehow she never has to do lesson plans on the TARDIS.

Dramatic shows that include teaching have to really ramp up the drama. A peak example would be Boston Public, from, David E. Kelly; it did show the crowded underfunded nightmare of an urban school, but spent almost no time on actual teaching. Instead some stereotypical characters blasted through plots heavy on sex and violence. (No, I'm not going to count Walter White.)

TV teachers who have become supporting characters on their own shows (sometimes to the frustration of the actors playing them) would include examples like Howard Hesseman (Head of the Class) and Gabe Kotter, both of whom took a back seat to the breakout stars in their classrooms. They were also examples of that TV phenomenon--the teacher who only teaches one small class. As the meme says, the most unbelievable thing about the Magic Schoolbus is not the magic, but the idea that Miss Frizzle only has eight kids in her class. The peak of the phenomenon would be Mr. Feeney, who only taught one group of students, and was so committed to being their supporting cast that he followed them through elementary school, high school, and college. 

Television teachers are either noble or hilariously incompetent. They either never take work home, or simply cease to exist outside of school. The entertainment industry has a terrible time envisioning the world of teaching and the people who serve there. TV teachers are the equivalent of movie musicians--you know, the ones who are just told a song title and suddenly they're playing a full-fledged arrangement of it. TV teachers never prepare or do outside work; they just somehow stand up and start teaching stuff. It is almost like a child's version of teaching-- children never see teachers doing anything except hanging out in the classroom, so that must be the whole gig, right?

There is one old series that made a real attempt to portray teaching and schools well. Room 222 was the first series created by then-rising tv writer James L. Brooks, before he created the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Room 222 premiered in 1969 and featured Lloyd Haines as a high school history teacher, Denise Nicholas as a guidance counselor, Karen Valentine as a student teacher, and Michael Constantine as the principal. The show quickly dropped its laugh track and became a dramedy (before MASH even premiered). Room 222 dealt with lots of real issues, from contemporary concerns like the war to social issues and just growing up issues. It tried to be realistic (in the first sixty seconds of the first episode, you hear a teacher asking after still-missing supplies). The students are mostly student age, and Brooks tries to be contemporary--students really "dig" Haines' character, and in another episode, they say want to "rap about our scene." In another episode, the very bubbly and optimistic student teacher (who reminds me more than a little of Janine Teagues of Abbott) struggles (in a single-episode way) with classroom management. The show won some awards in its first year, didn't draw much of an audience, then was shipped off to the Friday night death spot right after Brady Bunch and Partridge Family, with which it didn't really belong. 

In other words, the last attempt to put a realistic take on teaching on tv didn't end all that well, so kudos to Abbott Elementary for pulling it off.