A FB post from a former student who is now in the profession stimulated this memorable, and I think amusing, anecdote, dating back to my first year at The Place.
Story from the archives. How things have changed.
The year: 1971-72 (my first)
The Place: The Place (Hancock Place)
The Class: The “Make It or Break It” class, you know the one every first-year secondary teacher has; the one where, if you survive, you think, “Maybe I can make a go of this.” In this case, sophomore English, with kids experienced and bright enough to cause trouble, but not quite mature enough to stay out of same.*
As bell is about to ring, student** rushes for his desk, but fails to get close to the finish line before the bell rings. Bell rings, class falls silent (definitely NOT the norm), just as he exclaims, “Aw F🤬!”
He looks around, looks at me, shrugs, and says, “I know,” then reports himself to the office.
And now here we are.
- I’m not sure this crew would even crack the Top 5 of my career, but that would take more analysis than I care to invest.
- Yes, I absolutely remember the kid, and while he was no stranger to office visits and discipline, obviously neither was he anything to close to a “bad” kid. (And yes, those DO exist. Sorry, not sorry.)
Obviously they didn't break me. Not that they were trying. We ended up finding a way to survive the year together. I'm partly crediting my lucky inspiration to start the countdown to the end of the year with this class, using a number containing 3 figures. They joined in on the joke and made sure I erased the old number and chalked up the new one each day. I doubt this is what administration had in mind when they "suggested" we write our objectives daily, but it worked!
