First Teaching Job – No Computer, The Least Of My Problems
Went back to my home town, Gary, Indiana, to take my first coaching and teaching job straight out of college. Coaching was great. I went straieght into two-a-days observing the varsity for a week. Then began as the assistant freshman football coach. We had a talented team; this job was too easy.
As easy as the coaching job was and how much I enjoyed it, the fact is, that is not how I paid my rent. That required teaching. I found myself in a grade school class room for students with learning disabilities. Behavior problems are in this territory as well, but I was prepared. Not really – that’s what I thought.
Day 1: I don’t know what I’m doing. My students asked if I paddled. Of course I do not. I don’t believe in it. They informed me that the class would be chaos (that wasn’t the word they used). My fine teacher’s education had empowered me with the greatest of nurturing tools at my disposal.
End of First Grading Period: I know I don’t know what I’m doing. My supervisor is on my back and I have no intention of failing. Out to my father’s garage I went (The specifics are for another blog.). A plank from an old bowling ball floor held in a vice and a draw plane in my hand, I forged a paddle much like the baseball bat in “The Natural” sans the burned in lightning bolt.
Day 1 With My New Paddle – Not sure who the first victim was. Somone said/did something and I brought out the paddle. There was shock, awe, and jokes and laughs. The jokes went after I beat the first ass. God only knows the beatings these kids suffered. And there I was dishing more. Someone referred to the paddle as a ”fingernail file”. Turns out after a few “filings” that kid ran out of the school the next time his turn was up. The other kids never let him live that down.
The class room impoved. The paddlings were less frequent and probabl during the last grading period they stopped. The school year was coming to and end. One student was able to claim that he was the only one who didn’t cry. I was more impressed by him when on time he very respectfully informed me that it was all right to call him “Son” but not “Boy”. I never did call him boy, and I don’t remember how it came up in conversation. I always respected him for that and thought it showed a lot of maturity.
End of the First School Year – my students seemed to like me. Why? In some ways I became just like their other teachers. I was a horrible teacher (OK, maybe I’m being a little hard on myself.). I always thought that I cared. Maybe they could see that. Up until now, I never realized that we never had a computer. I wish we did. There were some kids that would have been great at it.
I moved on to teach at my old high school. And never paddled anyone again.
