Losing My Faculties: A Teacher's Story
Page 24
Finally Friday comes, and I head out for the last party at Al’s. I have been thinking a great deal lately about that first party at Al’s where Chip cut up the strips of poem and it was weird and corny but I totally fell for it, and that really marked the beginning of this place for me, so it feels appropriate to end it here. I make little diplomas for everybody from “the Bored of Better Than You,” and hand them out so that we have a little piece of paper that says we did something special. Al, as always, puts on a spectacular spread, and I eat way too much and drink way too much. There is dancing to eighties music (so we get “Take On Me” instead of “Pomp and Circumstance,” but what the hell—“Take On Me” has a way better video), there is champagne, there are innumerable really vile personal sexual things said about everybody we all hate, but somehow it never gets maudlin or weepy, it never gets too bitter or sad. It’s just a great celebration and the best party I’ve attended in years.
I feel like shit physically for an entire day afterward (I simply can’t party like it’s 1999 anymore), but emotionally, I feel great. At last it’s over.
EPILOGUE
Nine Years and Counting
It’s now August 2002. Last month I went over to my new school and signed my contract. I will be spending three fewer hours a week in class than I did at Better Than You, and I will be making 25 percent more money. And I will have the kind of respectable benefits that come from being in a union workplace. And, presumably, my race won’t be an issue.
Yesterday I rode my bike over to my new school. I’m starting to look forward to working there. I’m also starting to feel that nervous terror that comes with a new job. What if the kids don’t like me? What if my colleagues don’t like me? What if I don’t know what I’m doing?
I take all these fears as a good sign—since I’ve felt them every time I started a new teaching job, it seems kind of reassuring and hopeful. I was certainly damaged by the whole Better Than You experience, and I suspect that my anger and hurt will bubble up at weird times over the next year or so, but fundamentally, I’m still in the game, and I’m excited to meet a hundred new kids in a couple of weeks.
I have seen my students from Better Than You a couple of times this summer—on the subway, on the street, or whatever. It’s been bittersweet; I always really enjoyed the feeling I got seeing my students around—like I really was a civil servant in the best sense of the word, that in working with these kids I was serving my city in a really important way.
I’m going to miss that. And I’m going to miss them. In fact, I already do.
But I am, finally, excited that when September comes, I’ll be teaching again. I had a good talk with Al late in the year in which he said that teaching was like a long-term love affair, with all its ups and downs. It immediately rang true to me—so I’m no longer forgetting to get paid, but relationships never sustain the insanity of infatuation. So the school policies and administrators that always come with teaching have (with some notable exceptions) driven me nuts—well, lots of people have difficult in-laws. So I’ve just come through a rough patch—most relationships have them.
A few days after I talked to Al, I was talking to Diana, and she was having a tough time deciding between a very good local school and one of the best liberal arts colleges in the country, and one thing she told me in the discussion is that she wanted to go to the local school because they have an education program, and she wants to be a teacher.
And I didn’t say this, but I was shocked to find that I wanted to tell her not to do it. She was one of the top students at the school, and the thought that rose up and almost came out of my mouth before I could even think about what it implied about me is that she can do so much better, that she shouldn’t settle for being “just a teacher.”
I have heard other people say shit like that and wanted to kill them. What gives?
I find that both things exist in me at once. I really do think this is a great job, and I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. (Well, I mean, yes, I imagined myself writing video-game manuals, but I also saw that getting really old, and me getting much geekier and fatter and having to leave after a year or so.) But at the same time, when this person with what appears to be limitless potential said she wanted to teach, my impulse was to warn her not to settle.
I don’t know what to make of this—clearly the endemic lack of respect for teachers has gotten inside my head. At one time I thought that if more people like Diana went into teaching, the profession would become more respectable and schools would get more functional, but now I just don’t know—I no longer think I can change it, and I guess I kind of doubt she can either.
But if she does decide to teach, she won’t be settling. She’ll be getting a great job—hell, I still think it’s the best job. Yes, it’s screwed up and frustrating, but I am in love with it, and I’m going to keep doing it anyway. And in the end, I hope she does too.
Acknowledgments
Kirsten Shanks read everything almost as soon as I wrote it, told me what was good and what was horrible, and helped immeasurably in shaping this book. Also she’s a total fox.
Daniel Sokatch and Andrew Sokatch read early drafts and gave me great feedback.
Lisa Graustein and Alison Kellie read later drafts and gave me great feedback.
Douglas Stewart provided invaluable encouragement from the moment this book was an idea and continues to be a great help with both creativity and logistics.
Bruce Tracy believed in me and in this book, and his insights helped make this book much clearer and better.
Special thanks to all of my friends and mentors in the teaching profession. You sustain my teaching and enrich my life.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2003 by Brendan Halpin
Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox
ISBN: 978-1-5040-0969-0
Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Note
Prologue: Why I Do This
Part One: Prehistory
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Part Two: Newcastle
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Part Three: Northton
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Part Four: Famous Athlete Youth Programs
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
Part Five: Better Than You
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
Epilogue: Nine Years and Counting
Acknowledgments
Copyright Page