Malte Fylkner är under detta läsår utbytesstudent i USA. Från Connecticut, där Malte går på en all-boys school, får vi ta del av USA:s kultur och politiska utveckling inifrån. Den här gången har Malte intervjuat en lärare på sin skola. 

Jag har intervjuat Anthony Mantegani, lärare på Salisbury School. Trettiotreåringen undervisar U.S. History samt Modern Politics and Current Issues. Han är uppväxt i Kent, Connecticut, i samma delstat som skolan. Han gjorde en Bachelor of Arts i political science vid Brown University, och studerade därefter en master i science of education vid University of Pennsylvania. Dessutom är han skolans roddtränare. Han svarar med ett leende på frågan om hans fritid, och säger att, med den knappa tiden han har, joggar han och löser korsord. 

What is your experience teaching an all-boys school like Salisbury?  

I’ve been at Salisbury for four years now. Before coming here, I worked for a total of eight years at two other boarding schools, both of which were co-ed. This has been my first experience in an all-boys environment. I have to say, I’ve enjoyed it more than I expected. It’s not that I thought I wouldn’t like it—otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the job—but I really didn’t know what to expect. What I’ve found is that in an all-boys classroom, I often see more students who are willing to put themselves out there. They’ll ask questions or take a shot at an answer, even when they’re not entirely sure. There seems to be a little less of that hesitation or fear that I sometimes noticed in co-ed classrooms. That said, I think the flip side is that boys can sometimes let themselves get a little carried away. Of course, it’s not a female student’s job to regulate behavior, but in a co-ed classroom, boys at this high school age often show a bit more self-regulation. That’s something that doesn’t always come naturally in an all-boys setting. But overall, I really love teaching here. There’s a lot of genuine curiosity that I see in the students, and that’s something I think is really special. 

You mentioned boys tend to have problems with behavior. At Salisbury, there is a system promoting good manners through room picking and punishing bad behavior through detentions. As a Swedish student, I was surprised by this system, since we do not have an equivalent version in Sweden. How do you think this system works, and would a boarding like Salisbury work without it?   

It’s kind of hard for me to say, because at the three schools where I’ve worked, all of them have had some version of that kind of system—whether it’s demerits, points, or whatever you want to call it. 

Most of the time, I think when you have students—boys—who want to be here, who are invested in what they’re doing, who have some motivation to be in whatever class they’re in or on whatever team they’re on, the demerit tool doesn’t really become very necessary. I’m open to the idea that we don’t necessarily need to compel behavior. In most cases, I think a lot of students would be just fine without having a three-demerit penalty for missing a class or something like that. In a way, that’s also about treating students more like adults, and I think for maybe even the majority of them, that would probably go fine. 

 But I think some of the reasoning often comes back to this idea that we need to have some sort of mechanism—not so much as a big penalty, but more as a marker that says, “Okay, you’ve missed this many classes, so now we’re going to send some communication home to your parents.” 

I think the demerit system just simplifies that whole process. You reach a certain point, and that triggers a certain response. So, in that sense, it’s more about streamlining the disciplinary side of things. And maybe it’s also something that helps encourage better manners and overall functioning in the school community. 

When I told my friends about going to the U.S., and Salisbury particularly, the dress code with shirts, ties, sport coats and leather shoes surprised my friends the most. Is the dress code purely symbolic, or do you think there is a deeper intention behind it?  

I think, at its best, a dress code can be something that gives students a little bit of a nudge—if they need the reminder—to take themselves and what they’re doing seriously. I really believe there’s something to the idea that the teacher at the front of the classroom is dressed in a professional way. I wear a tie and a jacket to work every day, and I think having that mirrored by the students matters. 

When the teacher is dressed professionally and the students are as well, it sets a tone. It emphasizes that we’re here to do something meaningful. To me, we’re here to do something important. We’re in the classroom, and that’s a professional setting. 

Now, I’m sure not everyone thinks about it that way or fully buys into the idea of a dress code. But I do think it’s more than just a set of rules students have to follow. There’s value in the routine—getting up in the morning and, instead of just rolling out of bed and heading to class, putting on a collared shirt and a tie. I think that shift helps emphasize that you’re moving from your dorm room, your home life, into your academic life—or even your pre-professional life. 

From a student´s perspective the education at Salisbury is top notch. The classes are small, the teachers are well-educated and there is plenty of help available at all times. But how is Salisbury from a teacher´s perspective? 

I love teaching here. Like I mentioned earlier, working with the boys at Salisbury, there’s always something that keeps it fresh and interesting. I’ve been teaching the same courses every year since I got here, but I’ve never taught the same class the same way twice. Each year, the experience, the interest, and the questions that each class brings really help shape how I teach. 

I’m not tied to a fixed curriculum. There’s no strict list of books or texts that I have to get through every year. We have the flexibility to change things on the fly. If there’s a topic the boys are especially engaged with, we can follow that and spend as much time on it as we want. That kind of flexibility is amazing for a teacher. 

The environment here, especially with the other teachers, is one of the best I’ve ever been part of—whether it’s in the history department or among people in other departments. Even casual conversations with colleagues are enriching. We’re always talking about what Mr. Siff is doing in his U.S. history class, or what Mr. Mokriski is working on with his guys in Coloring Our Past or Modern Asian History, or what Dr. Stifler is doing in his Cold War class. 

We’re constantly checking in with each other, sharing ideas, saying things like, “So-and-so did this cool project,” or “Here’s something I’m trying out.” There’s this ongoing intellectual stimulation that helps keep everything exciting. 

There’s a lot of work that goes into this job—but it’s so much easier when you’re in an environment like this. 

You mention a great flexibility in your workplace, which I see as a common theme in American education policies. Since there is a minimal federal control over U.S. education, schools vary in many ways. What is your perception of inequality or diversity in the U.S. education system?  

I think one of the interesting things about our educational system in the U.S. is that it’s really a patchwork. Every state has its own educational system. Some of them look very similar, while others are quite different. 

Every state has public schools—taxpayer-funded schools—but some states also allow parents to use public money to attend private schools. In certain states, families can opt out of the public school system and direct their tuition dollars, so to speak, to a religious school, a charter school, or another kind of private institution. 

I’d have to double-check, but I believe it’s true that, across the country, every state sets standards for public education: what’s taught, how it’s taught, and what courses students are required to take. 

At a school like Salisbury, as an independent school, we’re able to set our own standards. We don’t follow the state curriculum or educational requirements. Instead, we—as a faculty—design our own curriculum and expectations. 

So maybe this gets to your question. I think you’d probably find that a lot of what we do is still quite similar to what’s happening in public schools. For example, a calculus class at Salisbury probably covers much of the same content and teaches a similar skill set as a calculus class at Hoosatonic Valley Regional High School down the road. 

But one of the areas where you might see more difference is in the humanities—like in history. We don’t have to follow a set curriculum, what you’re learning in this U.S. History class at Salisbury is at least somewhat different from what’s taught in a public-school U.S. History course. I wouldn’t say it’s better or worse—just different. 

What I do think is a clear benefit for students here is that, because we’re not tied to fixed standards or state-mandated testing, we have more room for personalization. That gives us more flexibility to support different kinds of learners and to focus on helping each student develop the skills they need to succeed at the next level—whether that’s college or something else. 

That lack of rigid standardization allows us to personalize the experience in a way that many other schools just aren’t in a position to do. 

Building on to that question, there is also another big difference between Swedish and American “equality” in education. In Sweden, everyone takes the same level of courses, but in U.S. students can pick between regular, honors and Advance Placement classes with varying difficulty and workload. What upsides and downsides do you see coming with this?   

I think the upside to having different course levels—like Advanced Placement or honors classes—is that students in those courses are generally working at an accelerated level. An AP class, for example, is usually seen as an introductory college-level course. So for students who are ready for that level of challenge, being in a class with others who are equally motivated can be really valuable. They’re pushing each other, learning from one another, and there’s a lot of benefit to that dynamic. It’s similar in honors classes—at their best, they’re filled with students who are driven to learn and excel. 

That’s not to say students in other courses aren’t motivated, but I think that’s one of the main upsides to having different levels: you can create an environment that challenges advanced learners and allows them to thrive. 

That said, I’ve also taught at schools that don’t separate students into honors or standard-level classes, and I actually think there’s a lot of value in that approach, too. Having a mix of students—from the lowest to the highest performers—in the same classroom can be incredibly meaningful. If we’re talking about preparing students for real life, for the working world, most people don’t end up in offices where everyone is from the “honors group.” You’re working with a variety of people with different skill sets, backgrounds, and strengths. 

So, I think there’s something to be said for not using an honors system. One benefit is that it avoids creating this hierarchy where AP is seen as the top level, honors is just below that, and then “everybody else” is somehow considered less capable or less serious. That structure can unintentionally send a message that if you’re not in an honors class, you don’t need to push yourself as hard—or worse, that there’s something wrong with where you are. 

So, while I do see the benefits of having multiple levels, like AP, honors, and standard, I also really appreciate the mixed classroom model. In that setting, students learn from each other in different ways. High-achieving students get to work with classmates who might be at a different level, and that can be a valuable learning experience for everyone involved. 

Finally, I wonder about the political climate in the past few years. Would you say your classrooms have gotten further polarized?

I don’t think there’s been any kind of consistent increase in polarization among the students I teach. Specifically in the modern politics class, it really varies from year to year. I’ve had classes where students have strong political opinions and are very willing to share them. And I’ve had other classes where most students don’t know much about politics at all—or just haven’t really formed opinions yet. 

So no, I wouldn’t say polarization has been increasing in any steady way. In fact, teaching a politics class here has actually made me more optimistic about the future of American politics. Because, for the most part, even the boys who have well-formed political views—whether they see themselves as Republicans or Democrats, conservative, liberal, libertarian, or something else—they tend to be open to other perspectives. There’s a lot of genuine curiosity. They want to understand how things work. They ask questions like, “Why is this happening?” or “What’s the story behind something I saw on social media?” 

That kind of curiosity is really encouraging. I don’t see many students who are dug into their side and unwilling to listen to others. I’m sure there’s some of that out there, but at least in my classroom and with the students I’ve worked with, it’s far from the dominant attitude. 

What I do think is a growing challenge—and one that will likely only become more difficult—is the issue of information: where people get their information and how they evaluate it. These days, it’s more important than ever to critically vet the information we consume, whether it’s coming from traditional media, social media, or somewhere else. 

So, I’d say I’m more concerned about that—the information landscape—than I am about polarized political opinions among students at this age. 

Malte Fylkner, skribent