Last In Line

Over the course of more than three decades, I have developed a long list of sayings and “Hirschisms” that become a kind of classroom script. As I reach the end of my teaching career, I have been trying to collect and explore them here. I promise that this is the last (and tenth) of my “line” posts.

When I was student teaching, my supervising teacher told me that she really liked my “shut up substitute.” I wasn’t sure what she meant. She clarified that I used the word, “Focus” when she was thinking, “shut up.” Recently one of my students said that I never yell, instead, I say, “Stay with me.” I guess that is my latest shut up substitute.

Frankly, I don’t have kids writing on paper that much anymore. Most of our writing is on the computer. However, for years it drove me crazy that kids would come to class without a pen or pencil! So I started to collect all the pens and pencils that were left in the room or in the hall and put them in a jar in the room for these hapless kids without them. The jar was called “the land of lost writing implements” and a few years ago a few wonderful seniors actually labeled a jar with that title and gave it to me.

I will joke with kids a lot. When a student blurts out a right answer, I may retort, “What they say about you just isn’t true!” As kids are laughing and engaged in the activity, I will echo my Freshman English teacher who jokingly said, “No fun allowed! No fun in English class!”

Students will raise their hands and sometimes state that they have a “stupid” question. I will let them know that is fine by telling them, “All questions are stupid questions.”

When students do something not so good or make an unforgivable error (for example, there instead of their), I will make a kind of laughing face and say, “I show you my teeth” but I don’t growl or bite. Usually.

Kids will come in late with a pass from another teacher. While many teachers will sign their names, for some reason, P.E. teachers often just note that they were late from ‘gym’. I tell kids that I know Gym or Jim. Jim Class. But I add that I like his brother better: Art.

Students and teachers will return from an illness and blame a family member: my sister gave it to me! I always shake my head and say, “That’s how it is in families; whatever we get, we share.” I got it from Agnes!

When someone asks me if I am ready to go back to school or ready for spring break or ready for anything, I reply, “If I am not ready, will I get more time? Ready or not!”

Kids don’t think that teachers are watching all the time. I see the flirting and posturing, the budding relationships forming in class. My former student Christine reminds me that I would tell kids to “put the hormones on hold” when I needed them to stop being so adolescent!

Then there are those students who need more than their fair share of my attention. Sometimes, classes get impatient with these kids (and sometimes I do, too). However, I always reassure them that it is okay, because “I get paid extra to have this one in my class.”

Kids often bring food into class, and sometimes it is even healthy food. When an apple comes in, I will sometimes turn into the wicked stepmother and comment that they are eating, “a nice juicy apple dearie” Or I’ll ask, “You didn’t take that apple from that naked lady by the tree, did you?”

As I was preparing to write this series of posts, I asked my former students on Facebook what they remembered. Mike remembered the sign over the clock in my classroom: “Time to Take Notes.” I really wanted to cover the clock completely, but the teacher with whom I shared the room did not wear a watch!

Joe remembered my stupid thesis formula. It is one of those things I say so often that it is my hope that every student remembers it. When I am teaching the concept of thesis to Freshman, I will often stick my head into the hall and pull in any former student walking past. Most of the time, they immediately say, “The table is pretty and brightens the whole room.”

I have always been more of a Macintosh computer person than a Windows guy. For a long time, all the computers in our building ran Microsoft software. Jeremy remembered that I referred to my laptop as a “Piece of C.”

On open house nights, I would tell parents that education could not happen without photocopied handouts as I gave them my piece of paper at the door.

There are more. I have not covered them all because it would take far too long. This post is already much longer than it should be. As usual, I have gone on too long.

So this is the end of the lines!

You Have Made Me A Better Teacher, Parent, and Person: Thank You!

It has been a week of celebrating retirement - for me, my wife, and my fellow Deerfield High School retirees. It has been wonderful! The final event, on the last day of school, is a breakfast attended by the entire staff. The retirees’ families are invited and many of our alumni retirees return to celebrate with us.

Since I knew that several speeches would be sentimental and sweet, I decided to go a different route. It is mildly embarrassing to say that I prepared a silly, mildly inappropriate, spoonerism speech before the speech below hit me.

Here is what I said to my colleagues (and now to you) on my last day as a teacher at Deerfield High School:

This is not the speech I originally planned to deliver. A few days ago, after spending time at several of our retirement events, I thought about how this community, these people of DHS, has given me so much and for which I am so thankful. You have smoothed my edges, polished my rough spots, and transformed me into someone far better than the very green young man who walked into Deerfield High School in the fall of 1986. And I am so grateful – and I recognize that this journey is not over! You have made me better. I have learned more from you than I have ever taught in any class.

I have learned patience and the power of waiting, even when it is painful, even when I want to give the answer or pounce in and solve the problem.  

I am still learning to hold my tongue, especially in meetings, and this is still no easy thing for me to do. I was an even bigger blabbermouth for many decades years and over participated far too much. I still am, but now, sometimes, I actually catch myself.

I have learned that every student in this building belongs to all of us. I am never off the hook. Learning happens in the halls, cafeteria, entranceways, and every single moment!

I’ve learned to avoid the F and E hall intersection.

I have learned I affect people in ways I may never know and did not intend. This makes me very nervous, but it has developed in me a healthy respect for the power I wield when I work with humans, especially but not exclusively, younger ones.

I have learned that when I say (or even think), “If I do that for you, I have to do that for everyone” I absolutely SHOULD do that for everyone.

I have learned that in Deerfield and Lake Wobegon every child really is above average.

I’ve learned that autonomy is overrated.

I’ve learned to shake it up and embrace change. The kids are constantly developing, the world is not static, my teaching must continue to adapt.

 

I’ve learned that old dogs can learn new tricks, but it takes time.

I’ve learned that the hardest part of love is letting go.

I’ve learned you have to give people multiple chances. Two or three or four aren’t enough.

I’ve learned that mistakes are a gift: for me, this is particularly fortunate.

I’ve learned to take lots of photos and I wish I’d learned this earlier!  

I’ve learned that when I make lists, I leave things (or people) out. Sorry about that.

I’ve learned that you are, indeed, my sunshine.

I’ve learned that seeing my own children, nieces, and wife in the hall can make me joyful in ways I didn’t even think were possible.

I have learned not to make my lists too long.

When I am teaching improvisation in theatre class, one of the first games I introduce is one most people know: human machines is the common name for the game. Using sound and movement, students create the flavor of a mechanism, environment, or even an idea. The teacher who created theatre games, Violin Spolin gave that exercise a different name. She called it Parts of A Whole. 

That may be the most important lesson I learned in my years at DHS. I am not alone. We are not alone. We are all connected to each other in ways that are complex and subtle and form a human system that takes my breath away when I glimpse only a portion of it. 

I have made mistakes. These failures were almost always due to my short-sightedness. I saw only my piece of the machine, my priorities, my classroom, my students. But I am a part of the whole. I am not a soloist or a star. I am a part of an ensemble, a troupe, a team. 

Virginia Satir was a family therapist who used the metaphor of a mobile over a baby's crib to visualize systems. All those little toys dangling over the baby; if one is hit, they all move. If one is moved, removed, or a new one is added, the whole mobile must adjust. They affect each other. They are not alone. They are parts of a greater whole. This is our school.

DHS has changed me –for the better. When some teachers or students leave, the system adapts, newcomers create a new harmony to counter the bobbing of a mobile losing some parts and gaining others. 

And those parts will carry the experience of this system, this wonderful school, with them forever. They, too, will learn what it means to be part of this whole, and they will learn that they are never alone. 

I am so grateful for these lessons, for relationships with students, parents, and you. These have been happy, productive and wonderful years. Even as I leave the machine, the mobile, I rejoice in the beautiful lessons I have learned.

Live, Long and Prosper – and I’ll see you soon!