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!

A Ten Year Blog

Ten years ago I was writing regularly. However, I wanted a venue where I had to think about audience. I wanted to write as if someone was actually reading. Just writing was not enough. If I was going to be a good writing teacher, I had to really write. I had to go through the process like my students.

So I did what many people have done: I created a blog. It took me a year or three to figure out a focus, even if I depart from it once in a while. My parents read my blog. A few of you read my blog. More people read my blog if I post it on Facebook. Readership matters, but the practice is what really matters more.

So what about now? It has been ten years since I decided to write a letter to the void and talk to myself. Soon, I will no longer be a writing teacher. Do I still need writing practice?

My blog has become far more than writing practice or a way for me to share my ideas. It has also become a way for me to work out my thinking and try out ideas for writing in other venues. It has forced me to realize, as my old colleague Sally said often, that audience is everything. By publishing my writing on this blog, anyone may see it. What will they think? How might my words be received?

My daughter reads some of my posts and quips, “Dad, you are going to make me unelectable!” That is not my intention (although I am not sure how I feel about siring a politician). I never want to embarrass anyone, certainly not my family and least of all myself. Yet I don’t want to simply play it safe either. I want to test my skills and push my writing limits. I want to grow!

I have discovered that photos are important accompaniments. For the most part, all the photos on the blog are mine. There are a few that come from other sources. I have left a few posts photoless when I could not find a good match for them. I have sometimes written with photos in mind. Sometimes the photos come first!

I now schedule my blog posts. I have a calendar and a list of posts that are ready, those that need a little more work, and ideas to be developed. I have written timely posts (like this one) and posts that could be plugged in regardless of the date.

One of my goals is to “get out there” and get more readership for this blog. Frankly, that scares me a little. I am always humbled when someone says they read one of my posts. I don’t know my audience entirely. Hi, Mom! Hello, Dad!

When I am not in the classroom, how will that change this blog and my writing? I think I will go further out on the political limb. As I do in class, I have tried to limit my partisan discussions on the blog. I have made clear political statements about guns and schools and the standards to which we hold our elected officials, but I have avoided being overtly political beyond that focus. I am considering giving myself more latitude now.

I also have a new subject to write about: life after being a public school teacher. I don’t know much about it yet, but I am getting ready to learn! Writing will be a great way to explore and chronicle my new life.

I may increase my production. I have thought about posting some good articles, adding a third essay each month, posting works I am reading, or expanding other aspects of my blog.

I am retiring, but I am not retiring my “neighborhood.” Having the blog keeps me writing and thinking about how my voice is part of the chorus of public discourse. Stay tuned!

Over the Line

I have been writing about the things I say all the time: my lines or Hirschisms or whatever you want to call them. I have talked about silly lines, lines that involve word play, and how I reply to my pet-peeve of asking to go to the bathroom. I have lines for leaving the room, entering the room, and greeting people in the hallways. There are some lines that don't easily fit into any categories. Here is my second to last post about my classroom sayings. 

My former student Lucas reminded me that when I send a class off into small groups or to an activity out of our chairs, I often send kids off with a variation of Mork’s old line, “fly little birds be free!” When I need to bring them back to the large group, I riff on children’s playground games by calling out, “Red rover, red over” or “ally, ally, all come free!”

If, while they are in those small groups or partnerships, they should talk to another group or someone else’s partner, I jump in and tell them, “No group adultery! Don’t play around with someone else’s partners!”

As I greet a former student or anyone who has come back for a visit, I often reference an apocryphal 50s B SF movie: Return of the Thing that Went Away! Of course, anything that returns had to go away.

Often in class we read together. Reading for me is a kind of religious experience, so I will ask kids to “open your prayer book to page…” Sometimes I even add, “we’ll begin where is says, ‘Congregation:’”

When something falls during class, and it is usually a water bottle making a loud clanking sound, I will thank the student for testing gravity and tell them that they can rest easy because it is still working.

Kids have a tendency to pull their hands into their sleeves making them look handless. This is a good opportunity for some puns. I look at them in alarm and ask, “Where are your hands? Are you handicapped? Can I lend you a hand? Give you a hand? Hand it to you? Are you harder to handle?” Groans ensue and hands come out!

Similarly, I have kids every year who, like their two or three-year-old selves, seem to put all sorts of things that are not food into their mouths. This might be the drawstrings on their hoods, pencils and pens or pen caps, fingers, or other classroom materials. I often admonish them by saying, “Take that out of your mouth, you don’t know where that mouth has been!”

Students are so used to seeing examples of work that they routinely ask to see what the assignment looks like before they have to do it. That is a reasonable request. So whenever I am about to present them with such an example, I purse my lips, suck in my cheeks, and walk toe to heal across the room. Here comes the model.

I try to help my students learn about humor and how to tell a good joke. I teach them the basic three-part joke formula early in the year when I am showing them my model diagnostic assignment. I invite them to copy my assignment by using the line, “Imitation is the second most sincere form of flattery…” I repeat the set up line until someone (anyone!) provides me with a straight line: “What’s the first most sincere type of flattery?” Punch line: “Cash.”

Then there are those moments when I ask a question and every student in the room gives me the “you must be an alien” look. They stare back with vacant eyes that say, “We have no idea what you are talking about.” I used to use the line, “I don’t know George, something about the rabbits?” but since we have stopped teaching Of Mice and Men, that reference only gets the same reply.

As I have written before, I want kids to stay in the room. Next to “can I go to the bathroom,” my least favorite interruption is “can I go get a drink?” I always say, “yes, and get me one, too.” I always need it and never get it.

Hopefully, students learn to plan ahead before they miss class. I try to train them to be proactive, and to never ask, “Am I going to miss anything?” So when they say, “I am not going to be here tomorrow, “ I answer, “Good! I mean, oh, well. You know how to find out what we did – right?”

I have been teaching for more than thirty years, so my script is long and complex. I am certain that I have forgotten as many lines as I have described. I have one more post about my “Hirschisms” and I promise, it will be my last line!