Warm temperatures, extended
vacations, baseball, and barbecues
tend to sway the masses to believe
summer is their favorite time of year. Not I. I look
forward to the end of summer and getting the kids
back to school. It is why the August/September
back-to-school issue of Cravings is dear to me.
Unfortunately for teachers back-to-school means
being grossly under-compensated for the amount
of aggravation they endure.
If only it were that simple. Teachers receive
babysitter-type wages; and despite this, they are
expected to educate and perform miracles. Sure,
there are all sorts of contentions over education
reform and the idea of paying for performance.
We all know that there are very good teachers,
but there are also very bad teachers. Yes, change
needs to happen. But, as we have learned from our
current Washington administration change strictly
for the sake of change is not always good.
I will admit, I hold a bias in favor of teachers. My
mother was a teacher. My mother-in-law was a
teacher, and her mother was a principal. However,
I have to admit, that eventhough my mother was
a great teacher; I was not a great student. By the fourth grade, I had managed to get into more than
my fair share of trouble. I was caught climbing out
of the window of a classroom onto the roof of an
adjacent building. I was caught breaking into the
school. On a field trip, I was caught throwing paper
airplanes from the balcony of the Field Museum
-- one of the planes got lodged in the bones of a
dinosaur fossil.
Aside from these extracurricular activities, I
was not exactly a teacher’s favorite. I often
tortured teachers with my misbehavior and lack
of classroom etiquette. And teachers were not
exactly my favorite people. At the teachers' union
my mugshot is included in an FBI 10 Most Wanted
poster hanging on the wall. You may ask, how I
became such an advocate for the arch nemeses of
my youth.
My days as a student were many years behind
me, but my years as a parent (at the time) only
numbered 11. Like most parents of the modern
era, my child could do no wrong. While my son
was a good student, should there be a problem
at school, it was surely the teacher’s fault. The
teachers and I had an unspoken truce. I wouldn’t
bother them, if they didn’t bother me. The truce
came to an end when they crossed the line. I was
asked by my son’s school to teach a weekly class
for Junior Achievement. At first, I thought this
was some kind of mistake. Didn’t these people
know about my history as a student? Weren’t they
aware of the Most Wanted poster? Don’t they do
background checks?
I was made to feel guilty if I didn’t sign up. So with
another dad who had connections with Junior
Achievement I agreed. I then received a short speech
about what to do, a small plastic brief case with
materials, and what seemed to me as an insincere
wish of good luck. Then it was off to the trenches.
Like most new recruits, I knew immediately that I
was no match for the enemy. Before my first class, I
studied the course outline, wrote out a lesson plan,
and prepared my materials. Despite knowing the
subject matter, business, I was extremely nervous.
But why? I know business. I have a degree in finance
and run my own business. Yet, I knew the enemy
even better. I used to be one. I knew that all it took
was one smart aleck in the back of the room and the
whole class would be up for grabs.
My battle strategy was to use the always successful
technique… bribery. And with Krispy Kremes in
hand I would subdue the enemy.
But as they say “the best laid plans…” due to the
sugar rush caused by my battle strategy, my first
class was a disaster. Fueled by a sugar high, the
enemy became a pack of lions and I was their kill.
Girls were talking, paper wads were flying, and
nobody was paying attention to my frantic pleas
for order.
Somehow, despite my odds, I did manage to get
through half of the material and then mercifully
the bell rang. My son, who happened to be in the
class, just shook his head in shame as he exited
the classroom. I left the classroom dishevled and
drenched with sweat. Teaching this class was
one of the most mentally draining and physically
exhausting hours of my life.
Badly in need of rest, I returned to my office. My
throat was sore from the endless screaming. Every
bone in my body ached. There was no question
that I was getting paid back tenfold for all of the
teachers I tormented.
Never again would I disparage a teacher. From that
day on I had nothing but ultimate esteem for this
noble profession. I did eventually get the hang of
teaching and was able to gain control of the class
-- with a little additional manpower, a.k.a. the
school’s vice principal. There is absolutely no doubt
that teaching is a much tougher profession than
you could possibly ever imagine.
So, with this back-to-school issue, I would like to
honor our nation’s teachers and to wish them safe
passage as they return to the classroom and continue
the never ending fight we refer to as "education."
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