Marching to the teacher's beat

Heard a story the other day that I must share.

Laura Gatling-Wright taught for 14 years in Citrus County public schools. She interned at Homosassa Elementary School, and she recalled being nervous and intimidated in the days before school started.

She walked to her classroom and workers were setting it up. The school’s principal, Dr. Scott Hebert, welcomed her.

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“They’re bringing in your desk right now,” he said.

Laura’s eyes grew wide. “That’s for me?” she said.

Dr. Hebert’s response: “Of course. You’re a TEACHER!”

Man, that gave me goosebumps. Even the principal knew he wasn’t the most important person in the room.

“You’re a teacher.”

Kids return to school today, and my thoughts are on teachers. I realize many grownup lives impact these children — bus drivers, custodians, counselors, and cafeteria workers — but it all starts and ends with the teacher.

In the old days, teaching was just that — teaching. Now it’s much more difficult because of factors that really have little to do with readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic.

Today it’s, "Welcome to teaching! Here’s your 8-pound manual on the state laws you have to memorize. Here’s your binder with the 10 gazillion forms you need to fill out for each student. Oh, and today’s politics means parents are demanding more involvement, but good luck getting Mom and Dad’s attention when their kid is scraping C’s."

Teaching is bred in the soul. No amount of regulation, political shenanigans, economic upheaval, or the public education experimental flavor of the month will stop certain people from becoming teachers.

They can’t help it. And we’re thankful.

So, a few thoughts:

— We remember the good teachers and the bad ones. It’s been nearly 50 years (say what?) since school, but I can provide examples of each.

Mr. McBroom taught speech and forensics (not the CSI kind) at Stevenson High School in Sterling Heights, Michigan. I was really into it and learned the value of public speaking that continued through college and into my adult life.

(I’ll mention this now, and never again. I had a standup comedy routine in college, part of a radio program called Kold Kut Revue. Friends at Central Michigan had nicknamed me Stretch. So, my stage name: Stretch Marx. I’m sure alcohol had nothing to do with that. My gawd. Let's move on.)

— I was meandering through high school, wondering what happens next, when I took a journalism class taught by Ms. Schoenwether. I had dabbled in creative writing, and this filled some needed credits my senior year.

Turned out being a game-changer.

Ms. Schoenwether’s dad owned a small community newspaper in southwest Michigan. She had been a reporter for UPI and was a brilliant teacher. Nearly everyone in the room just wanted the easy grade, but Ms. Schoenwether could see I had some writing potential. She spent a lot of time gradually moving my interests from fiction writing to something that might actually have a future.

I’m where I am today because of Mr. McBroom and Ms. Schoenwether.

— They weren’t all winners. I had an 11th-grade history teacher who seemed to enjoy tormenting me (hey, teachers…NEVER a good idea to bully your students). And who can forget every gym teacher who made weaklings like me feel inferior because we couldn’t climb the rope? Not good times.

— Worst teacher ever was in fourth grade. I wish I could remember that guy’s name. He thought it would be fun to have the class participate in the school Christmas pageant by marching to “Little Drummer Boy.” 

He enjoyed that notoriety so much, he expanded our repertoire to march in figure 8s to patriotic music. First at our school, then surrounding schools. Wanna take a guess who couldn’t march in time? Yup. So, at age 10 I’m getting yelled at by a teacher because I can’t go left-right-left to the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

I’m sure I learned something valuable in fifth grade. Marching wasn’t it.

I want to close today with a prayer.

Lord, we lift up our educators. We thank you so much for these men and women who have taken on your assigned task to help mold the minds and hearts of children. What an enormous challenge, and one that can only be met with your steady hand. We ask you to provide guidance, comfort, clarity, direction, good humor, compassion, and a sense of fairness for these trusting servants. Please bless and protect the children in their care. Let these educators feel the warmth of your loving presence, so that they might be a beacon to others. Provide them calm, peace, and the sense of contentment that comes with following your will. We ask this in Jesus’ name.

Have an awesome school day, friends.

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