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June 22, 2006

Teacher Man

In my spare time, I just finished reading Frank McCourt's new book Teacher Man. Following Angela's Ashes and 'Tis, it narrates his life as a high-school teacher in New York City, and his own aspirations to become a writer.


His terse narration is darkly humorous at some points--taking a group of rowdy inner-city adolescent girls to a performance of Hamlet--and incredibly poignant at others--the heart-breaking lives of those he calls the "lost children of the Lost Generation."


As I was reading, I realized that as he taught--and as I've taught--what you're fighting much of the time isn't ignorance, though that has to be fought as well, but apathy. The sensation of 50 eyes looking up at you, as you fight them to express an opinion, any opinion, to think, to interact, to care. Aptly, McCourt uses battlefield imagery to describe teaching.

What makes teaching worthwhile (and this book so powerful) are the moments when you can break through the apathy. His creative means of breaking through were wonderful--having the kids write excuse notes for Adam and Eve and Al Capone. Or having them read recipes as if they were poetry, and the musical accompaniment that the kids improvised for the recipe readings on the spot. Beautiful!

Those moments make teaching worthwhile. I had one of those moments accidentally. I said something to one of my classes, not realizing the lurid double entendre that could be overlaid onto my innocent words. The class erupted in laughter. It felt like ages before I could get the class under control again. But from then on--for the rest of the semester--I had their undivided attention. It was a magic class. And at the end of the semester, they all clapped for me, and I felt like I had made some kind of real difference in their lives.

I've been meditating on teaching over the last week. I saw one student from the class I TAed (not mine, but another TA's) out on a date at a restaurant last week. She was pals with one of my students, and these two cheerleaders would chatter-chitter-chatter through the large lectures. Mine would grade-gripe. Not just grade-grub, but grade-gripe. Urgh! I didn't introduce myself, I just sort of snickered to myself when I saw her, remembering the moments of frustration throughout the semester with those two girls.

Then this week, Tim and I went out to share a dessert at a local Cracker Barrel. And one of my lovely students turned out to be our waitress. She's working two jobs and taking two classes this summer. I'm always impressed by students who earn their own education She was usually quiet, but attentive and respectful in class. And she said that our music appreciation class was her favorite class she's taken at the university. Happy! And touched that she would share that! We left a big tip and a little napkin note, hoping that she succeeds in school and life.

And finally, an inspiring McCourt quote on writing to wind this up.

Every moment of your life, you're writing. Even in your dreams you're writing. When you walk the halls in this school you meet various people and you write furiously in your head. There's the principal. You have to make a decision, a greeting decision. Will you nod? Will you smile? Will you say, Good morning, Mr. Baumel? or will you simply say, Hi? You see someone you dislike. Furious writing in your head. Decision to be made. Turn your head away? Stare as you pass? Nod? Hiss a Hi? You see someone you like and you say, Hi, in a warm melting way, a Hi that conjures up splash of oars, soaring violins, eyes shining in the moonlight. There are so many ways of saying Hi. Hiss it, trill it, bark it, sing it, bellow it, laugh it, cough it. A simple stroll in the hallway calls for paragraphs, sentences in your head, decisions galore.

Literature | By Tim and Jo | 8:46 PM

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Comments

Posted by: karen Paddison at June 25, 2006 4:33 PM

Posted by: Steve at June 29, 2006 9:07 PM

Email "Teacher Man" to a friend!