Last night was Open House at Schulte Elementary School, which is also the night of the annual Bake Sale which Kathy coordinates. This was the first time in several years that I was able to come help out a little bit, but she had things very nicely in hand with her student teacher, Megan Wilson, along with Schulte’s new art teacher. . . so I was there mostly to lend a bit of moral support, to step in at the counter when things got tremendously busy, and even to try and answer a couple of questions. (“Excuse me, sir. What’s in these bars over here?” they might ask. “It appears to be something brown,” I might answer.)
This is also the one night of the year when I typically find myself mightily tempted to shed my college professorship and my radio gig and become an elementary school teacher. Actually, I don’t feel the urge as acutely as I did the first couple of times I helped out with the bake sale, but I still get a twinge. It’s mostly because at open house you are pretty much seeing both the kids and their parents at their most saintly, which makes it seem like a tremendously happy place where such positive things occur. . . and the best possible place to work in terms of making a real difference. I would express these sentiments to Kathy, and she would just smile and maybe shake her head a bit. Over the years she’s talked to me about it – and I’ve also come to understand on my own a bit – about how in fact the sunny faces of open house are not the whole story. To work in a public school is also to face life in the trenches, contending with some tough situations – and often with your hands tied in terms of what you are allowed to do to meet those challenges. And at the end of the day, it can be very hard to know just who you’ve managed to reach or where any of this is leading for a given student. It’s draining and frustrating. And then there are days like today, Kathy was telling me, when something really rough happens with a student and all hell breaks loose, and somehow – as she was telling her student teacher – you have to find a way to keep things going in the middle of utter chaos. I SO admire my wife for how she can handle these tough situations. She is one of those teachers who is so much fun and has such a tender heart- and yet a teacher who is tough, not fooled by sweet talk, and not afraid to bring students in line. If I had to sum it up in a sentence, it would be this: My Wife Runs a Tight Ship – but That Ship is A lot of Fun! And she and her colleagues are engaged in what is just about the most important job of them all- educating our young children.
I suppose I’m waking up to the reality that to teach in an elementary school in America in 2007 is not the same as it was back in the 60s and early 70s when I was in grade school myself. . . and I’m sure it would drive me insane to have to come to grips with all of the differences, almost all of which complicate the lives of teachers and make their work all the more difficult- and important. Still, I love the thought of being an elementary teacher. . . and of perhaps having impact on young lives the way some of my teachers impacted me. There was, for instance, my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Ronken- who comforted me one day when some of the kids were making fun of me for my especially abysmal performance in gym class. (I remember we were lined up at the drinking fountain in the hallway when I overheard some kids behind me making fun of me for striking out every single time in whiffle ball. I had just bent over the fountain when I heard the comments and I rushed away and into our classroom- sat down at my desk and lifted up the lid of my desk as though I were looking for something inside- and cried and cried. A few moments later, Mrs. Ronken came by and put her hand on my shoulder, bent down to me and said quietly to me “I pointed out to those kids that none of them know how to play the organ for church like you do.” (or words to that effect.) That was the spring of 1970, so that was 37 years ago, but I still remember that moment and the tremendous gratitude that a teacher I so adored had come to my defense- and not just by saying “quit picking on him” but rather saying to them- and in effect to me – “you’re special.” What a privilege it would be to make that kind of difference in the life of a kid contending with the same sort of misery and sadness – to part the clouds, as it were. That’s what Mrs. Ronken did for me, and here I am all these years later still thinking about that and still thankful for it.
This year I felt only the faintest of urges to dump my seven jobs and become an elementary teacher- which I think says something about how happy I am at Carthage right now. I am tremendously busy there but it’s all good and it’s all fun and my crop of new voice students is probably the best group of newcomers I’ve ever had in the combination of quantity and quality. And who knows- maybe for one or two of them I might make a difference which will resonate with them far into the future. I can only hope.
In praise of fine elementary teachers everywhere.