I‘ll probably stay in the 60’s for a few days now that I’ve reached back here. It’s an area ripe with stories I’d all but forgotten.
I had a boy in class, Steve, who was difficult for most teachers. Steve was about 6’2” and weighed about 190. He was very strong! They thought he’d work well with me, and his whole class was a bit wild, but I liked them anyway. I got them as a group in the 8th grade and kept most of them through the 9th. The bottom end of the scale tended to migrate in and out of school due to moving, bad family situations and juvenile courts.
My most descriptive memory of Steve happened as he was leaving class one day and I watched him rip a small metal tag off of the side of a fire door with great gusto. I confronted him with this seemingly senseless act and questioned why he did such a thing. The simplicity of his answer let me know we were not from the same world. He held up his slightly ripped shirt sleeve and exclaimed, “What would you do if someone had ripped your shirt?”
In 1965 Steve was graduating and going on to the high school. All of the 9th grade classes came to the assembly hall to meet the principal of the High School. I had the bottom end group that afternoon and Steve and I walked together into the auditorium. We were about the same size (I was much thinner then) and I was wearing black jeans (yes, I do remember because I dressed somewhat differently than the other teachers and my hair was somewhat longer then most and I was 23 at that time) and Steve and I came in and sat down.
This story was told to me that afternoon by my principal:
I had a boy in class, Steve, who was difficult for most teachers. Steve was about 6’2” and weighed about 190. He was very strong! They thought he’d work well with me, and his whole class was a bit wild, but I liked them anyway. I got them as a group in the 8th grade and kept most of them through the 9th. The bottom end of the scale tended to migrate in and out of school due to moving, bad family situations and juvenile courts.
My most descriptive memory of Steve happened as he was leaving class one day and I watched him rip a small metal tag off of the side of a fire door with great gusto. I confronted him with this seemingly senseless act and questioned why he did such a thing. The simplicity of his answer let me know we were not from the same world. He held up his slightly ripped shirt sleeve and exclaimed, “What would you do if someone had ripped your shirt?”
In 1965 Steve was graduating and going on to the high school. All of the 9th grade classes came to the assembly hall to meet the principal of the High School. I had the bottom end group that afternoon and Steve and I walked together into the auditorium. We were about the same size (I was much thinner then) and I was wearing black jeans (yes, I do remember because I dressed somewhat differently than the other teachers and my hair was somewhat longer then most and I was 23 at that time) and Steve and I came in and sat down.
This story was told to me that afternoon by my principal:
As we walked in the High School Principal said to my boss, “What will we do with those two?” My boss told him not to worry, “The one on the right is the teacher!”
Cute. I've got a couple more on my blog.
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