1976. I was 25, newly married and working as a high school science teacher. Connie was also teaching. We were a cute little couple on a great adventure in public education. There was so much to learn.
Seven periods each day, five teaching blocks, one study hall and one period to shove a pb&j down my throat in the smoky teachers room, listening to the poisonous, cynical ranting of older teachers marking time toward retirement pensions. That's not fair. There were some wonderful educators who gave so much of themselves.
But my spirit was, as yet, unsullied, my intentions pure, my vision clear. I liked kids. Kids liked me. And I liked science. It was that simple... or so I thought. Plus, we liked to eat and between the two of us we were bringing in over $11,000 a year! Wow! Let the good times roll! Of course rent, car payments, food, bills and college loan payments ate it all up. But we were young, dumb and full of hope.
As the junior man in the Science Department, I pulled tough duty... one class of all freshman boys, behavior problems, lowest track... boneheads. Then there were two mid-level classes of general science, 30 freshman kids per class, a class of 30 sophomore Health students and one class of 25 juniors and seniors, Environmental Science.
The text books were 1960's era... "some day man will walk on the moon..." read one, They were tattered, torn, defaced with a decade of graffiti. In sharp contrast, the environmental science texts were current. And the students were gifted. I thought it was to be the bright spot of my teaching days.
First day of school. I paced back and forth nervously before the curious students as I attempted to communicate how much fun we were going to have exploring science in the new school year... not really believing my own words.
The freshman boys smelled my fear and, like a pack of wild dogs, attacked, circling their prey, waiting for a sign of weakness and a chance to lunge, rip out the throat. At no time in the College of Education had I been prepared for this kind of treatment. Neither had the school prepped me. My job was to maintain order. You're on your own, kid, Fish or cut bait. Survival instinct took over.
The ring leader's name was John. He was my size, obviously older than the other boys and, at 200 pounds, was the largest of his classmates. And he was rolling his eyes and mooing loudly, like a cow in heat, while the other 15 boys were laughing hysterically, slapping their desks and occasionally each other... Bedlam.
I approached his desk. "Cut it out, John." I warned. He began to cluck like a chicken to the wild screaming laughter of his peers. I pointed at him. "Come with me." He smiled cynically to my face and slowly rose from his seat, spilling books and papers onto the floor. First rule of warfare and public education; divide and conquer.
He followed me to the door and outside, leaning back against the lockers in the hall, all eyes following our departure. As I turned from the class I smiled a maniacal grin, walked into the hall and slammed the door with window rattling force. The stupid smile remained on John's face, but his eyes showed alarm. He was not unfamiliar with violence.
Out of sight from the classroom, I attacked the locker bay, pounding with my fists and feet. Teachers heads began to appear from their classroom doorways. After ten seconds, I turned to John and said, "OK, you're gone. Come back tomorrow if you want. But no more crap... Got it? If there is, I'm calling your father." His eyes flashed fear. The old man would pound more than lockers. He knew it. I knew it. He swaggered down the hall and out the door.
OK, now to reclaim my class. I swung the door open and entered the room. There was no talking, no animal noises. I had their undivided attention. Slamming the door behind me, I strode across the room and attacked the metal waste basket. The first kick sent it spinning through the air into the wall. As if a man possessed, I began stomping the metal flat, crushing it beyond recognition. Finally, winded and sweating, I turned to face the class.
"OK boys, let's begin again. Why is science important to us?" I love the Socratic style.
Their eyes registered alarm... and respect. This guy was crazy. And what had he done to John? Their imaginations were on overdrive.
The 90 pound boy in the back row raised his hand tentatively. I pointed at him and his voice squeeked and broke as he said "So we can learn about engines and work on cars and stuff...?"
I beamed. "EXACTLY!" I bellowed, "Do you like to work on engines?" He shook his head vigorously, like a cupee doll on the dashboard of a 57 Chevy."Because this semester we are going to strip down an engine in class!" I announced.
An electric shock ran through the room. "Really!"... "Cool!"... "I've got tools. Should I bring them in?"... Comments and questions from around the room. I had them.
We spent the rest of the class talking about where we would find an old lawn mower engine, drawing pictures of internal combustion engines on the blackboard, talking about carburetors, pistons, rings. They were bonehead boys. I knew them. I was them.
The bell sounded to end the period and they seemed to awaken as if from a dream. They glanced around the room at each other, embarrassed at their enthusiasm, and rose from their seats, filed out into the crowded halls.
They were my favorites... and they knew it. We planted terrariums, built flat plate solar collectors, learned how to gut deer and survive lost in the Maine woods. We dissected ducks and snakes and any other dead thing they brought in to class, we took field trips, collected rocks, studied the stars and UFOs. It was a science extravaganza.
John came back to class the next day and sat sullenly for the rest of the week. But when I asked him to remove the first bolts from the engine block, he came around. And whenever things started to get out of control, I had only to lightly tap my toe against the new trash can.
Some things just can't be taught in college education classes...
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