The Teachers, Chapter 1

All through high school I knew that whatever I became in life it would be to help people. Several occupational areas interested me, but by the time I entered my final year of high school I had narrowed my choices down to two professions. One was to become a registered nurse as I often dreamt of providing intimate and loving medical care to beautiful boys. And the other was to become a gifted school teacher who was capable of educating children to a point where they could successfully pursue their hopes and dreams.

With the help of my guidance counselor I eventually landed on teaching. I did well in college, and so had no problem earning my Bachelors in Education and then my California State Teaching Credential. So just before my 23rd birthday I graduated and was out looking for a teaching position near my home town. I personally saw myself teaching high school age children English or History, or maybe even American Government. But at the time I was applying the only openings for non-experienced teachers were at primary schools. I didn’t mind that as I figured, “Well we all have to start somewhere”, and teaching younger kids is just as important as teaching older kids.

I’ll never forget my first day at Michael Scott Elementary School in San Jose, California. It was teacher’s orientation day, and a good week before school actually started. The teaching staff consisted of 14 teachers comprised of 11 woman and 3 men. Of course there was also a principal, a vice principal, and a school nurse, all of whom were women. There was also a well-established hierarchy of office staff that was also made up entirely of women. Besides learning that those un-credentialed office workers wielded a great deal of power in the school’s general operation, I also learned that the teachers at Michael Scott got to pick their teaching positions in accordance with their credentials and their school district seniority. That immediately caused me to know that I and the other new hire would get last choice of which grade level we would be working with.

Besides myself, the other new hire was Race Farrell. Like me he was also 23, but unlike me he seemed to be far more outgoing, and was basically a real hunk of a man. He was the kind of guy who seemed to have that magnetic quality that drew people to him. And I have to tell you that I wasn’t the only one to come to that conclusion, because beginning on that orientation day almost all of the female staff seemed to be all over him, offering to help him set up his classroom, and even to assist him with any future classroom problems that might arise. I don’t know why Race got to choose his teaching position before me, but he did and he chose the remaining 6th grade class which left me with the last choice, which was a 3rd grade class of 20 supposedly normal performing students.

The only other male teacher on staff was Julio Mendez. He had five years seniority in the school district, and because he also held special certificates in teaching remedial reading and math, he chose early on a combination fifth and sixth grade special ed. class. But even though I was the last to get to choose I was all but totally thrilled with my new position. And even though I wasn’t going to teach anywhere near my preferred age group, at least I was a teacher, and so was looking forward to meeting my new students.

After our orientation and class assignment meeting we all walked to the school’s library supply room where all of the appropriate syllabuses, text books, and general classroom supplies that were needed to get our classes started were all set out and waiting for us on a string of library tables. Because we all had to take turns using only four dollies to move our text books and supplies to our rooms it was some time before I was finally able to move my supplies into Room 8.

All I can say, is that it was worth the wait, because upon entering my classroom I felt a state of reverence come over me. It was almost as if the room was a cathedral of learning. The entire outside wall was made of counter-top to ceiling windows. Its desks were lined up in four neat rows all facing a green chalk board that spanned the entire front wall. Its under-window counter and cupboards were complete with a pencil sharpener, a sink, and an empty terrarium, while its back wall was lined with colorful cubbies designed to hold the students personal effects. This may seem mellow dramatic, but for me this all came together to bring me a to a feeling that I had suddenly arrived at my chosen profession.

I spent the next three days organizing and stowing my classroom supplies, reading the third grade syllabus, and learning such simple things, as where the faculty lunch room and rest room were located, as well as the school’s nurse’s office, library, and Audio/Visual room. Because of my interview I already knew where the Principal’s, Vice Principal’s, and the school’s main office were located.

There were other meetings and luncheons I was expected to attend that week, mainly to become acquainted with my fellow teaching staff. And one of the first things I learned in those meetings was that the teachers seemed to be quite clicky, often collecting in groups that aligned with their seniority, or sometimes in groups aligning with the grade level they taught, while other times with female teacher seeming to collect around Race Farrell, and that group often included the principal and vice principal.

The other thing I noticed, was that the faculty didn’t seem to collect around me. They didn’t exactly ignore me, but it quickly became clear that the third grade teaching position was definitely middle ground at Michael Scott Elementary. The only other third grade teacher was Ann Chamberlin. She was married, and seemed to want to operate quite independently. So for the most part I felt as if I was on my own, a feeling I was actually quite comfortable with.

I felt that my first day of actual teaching went very well. I introduced myself to my students and had them introduce themselves to me and their fellow classmates. Of course the majority of them already knew each other from their first and second grade experiences at Michael Scott, so with the exception of two new students I was the one person that most of my students were anxious to get to know.

For the most part, I really liked all of my students. There was an almost even mix of boys and girls from middle to upper middle class homes, all seeming quite motivated to take on the third grade curriculum. Their ages ranged from as young as seven, to as old as nine, with the majority falling in at mid-eight. Yet as far as I was concerned, I simply saw them all as being the most beautiful people America had to offer. So by the end of our first week together I was quite pleased and felt as if I had successfully turned that thirty year old classroom into a functioning temple of learning.

Of course things changed as time went on. I soon identified five boys and two girls who regularly needed special attention, especially in the areas of reading and math. I was sure that three of the boys, and possibly one of the girls fell into the category of suffering from ADHD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, as well as possibly suffering from varying degrees of dyslexia. Unfortunately, when I brought this matter up to my fellow staff members I soon learned that those children weren’t effected enough to qualify for special ed. support, and that I was simply expected to do my best with them. Helping my ADHD and dyslexic students turned out to be easier than I thought as I soon learned that my worst performing students soon became my favorites. Of course I couldn’t show any favoritism in the classroom, but it was a truth that I had to deal with.

After my first two months in Room 8, I felt my class was clicking right along on schedule. My students were all responding to me in such a way that I felt I was getting our third grade curriculum across to my entire class. It was as if I had managed to fit into the third grade teacher’s role in an almost perfect way, at least in the eyes of my students.

Of course I thought the adjustments I had made were a good thing, but I eventually came to realize that some of my fellow teachers saw me in a totally different light. I don’t know why, but I had always assumed that credentialed teaching staff would operate on a more professional level than the teachers I was actually working with as I truly felt that our credentialed teaching staff would hang together, assist and support each other in doing our best for our students. But just after being on the job for a little over two months I happened to overhear Julio Mendez, our only male special ed. teacher, tell Race Farrell that he thought I was gay, mainly because of the way I had fit into teaching third graders, and that teaching third grade wasn’t exactly a manly position.

I know Julio didn’t realize that I had entered the faculty lunch room when he made that statement, and that he must have forgot that I hadn’t choose to teach third grade, but that it was all that was left when it came my turn to choose. So his statement struck me like a dagger in my back, to the point that I turned and just kept walking back out of the room.

I returned to my classroom and just sat quietly at my desk. I never did eat that day. Danny Loyalton, a cute eight year old boy returned to class early that day from lunch period and took a seat at his desk. Danny was one of the boys I was trying to get tested for dyslexia. He was an under performer in our reading section, but excelled at almost everything else. He particularly impressed me with his knowledge and curiosity of all things mechanical. But on that day it was me who caught his interest, because after stowing his books in his desk he came to my desk and asked me if I was okay. I knew at that instant that dyslexia was never going to get in his way. I knew that Danny Loyalton was going to be somebody important someday, and that unlike Julio Mendez, he was going to make positive differences in other people’s lives. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but of course I didn’t.