Forum / Why I Teach

Joani Reese
Feb 16, 12:48pm

A post by Gill Hoffs on Facebook became my madeleine this morning: In the early 1970's, my eighth grade English teacher, Mrs. Levine, taught us poetry, and the first "real" poem she introduced me to was "Dog," by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, not exactly an eighth grade appropriate curricular choice. I loved it, and subsequently, I began to love poetry. She sent a poem I wrote into a contest for an eighth-grade anthology. One day, she called me up to her desk after class and read me a letter the judges wrote to her, explaining that my poem was much too mature for an eighth grader to have written, so it was declined because they thought she cheated. It was certainly a Pyrrhic victory for us both. They fired her the next year. I loved her and hope she's still around, sparking creativity in angry children who are lost. http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index/index.php%3Fdate=2005/12/index.php?date=2003/03/21

Frankie Saxx
Feb 16, 01:27pm

More teachers like Mrs. Levine would probably substantially lower the number of people that get that self-deprecating look and say, "You know, I really don't understand poetry," when the topic comes up.

Sam Rasnake
Feb 16, 01:53pm

"Lit Instructor"

Day after day up there beating my wings
with all the softness truth requires
I feel them shrug whenever I pause:
they class my voice among tentative things,

And they credit fact, force, battering.
I dance my way toward the family of knowing,
embracing stray error as a long-lost boy
and bringing him home with my fluttering.

Every quick feather asserts a just claim;
it bites like a saw into white pine.
I communicate right; but explain to the dean--
well, Right has a long and intricate name.

And the saying of it is a lonely thing.

- William Stafford

Joani Reese
Feb 16, 02:37pm

Perfect Sam.

Sally Houtman
Feb 16, 09:36pm

SAm;s post reminded me of this:

WHAT TEACHERS MAKE (OR, IF THINGS DON’T WORK OUT YOU CAN ALWAYS GO TO LAW SCHOOL)

by Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite company.
I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?
And I wish he hadn’t done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy in my classroom
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question, so put your hand down.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
To the biggest bully in the class, he said,
“Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?”
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question,
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand if you’ve got this [brains],
then you follow this [heart],
and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this [the finger].
Here, let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
Teachers make a goddamn difference! Now what about you?

Joani Reese
Feb 16, 10:50pm

I have seen many of his live performances on YouTube. I am in love with this guy. Thanks, Sally.

Darryl Price
Feb 18, 05:09pm

I don't know why, but just now I was thinking of the movie, 'Good-bye Mr. Chips" with Peter O'Toole in the main character's role. Nothing, it seems, is more important to us in life than to have at least one teacher who cares enough to see us through, to listen to our hearts, to guide us, and to promote our own path to creativity with compassion and good will.They are rare--and invaluable.And we are lucky when they do appear in our lives, however briefly.

Joani Reese
Feb 18, 09:02pm

I agree, DP. You said it so eloquently. I have been fortunate and can count at least six teachers, from elementary school to grad. school, who made a huge difference in my life. I will always be grateful to them for their empathy, support, and wisdom.
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