Teaching High School ...years ago

                               Helena High School, Timberlake, North Carolina

                                         Grades 1-12 same building

                     I received an invitation to a reunion of the High School Classs of 1967.  Not my own class but one whose members had been my students when  I taught there in 1964-1966.  The email came from Vicki whom I remembered as an outstanding student from US History and French classes.  She has been married for 52 years to Larry, her high school sweetheart. In those times, he was a happy-go-lucky guy who seemed more interested in athletics and 'joking around' than in academics. Both had careers as educators and he was a high school Principal for 16 years and they both retired in 2002 ! In reading her email, I suddenly felt OLD.  How could these 'high school kids' have been married that long and RETIRED ?!  

  For two years at an annual salary of approximately $4000, I taught US History, French I and II and General Math.  Principal G.N. Titus and faculty  provided a solid  academic curriculum.   When I grew a beard, Mr. Titus ignored the Superintendent's 'suggestion' that he tell me to shave. (Remember, this was the 1960's when facial foliage conjured all kinds of reactions)

  Without the aid of my yearbooks that are in storage somewhere in 'the archives',  I have been able to recall lots of names and experiences from those two good years.  I was saddened to learn of the deaths of several.

  While there was an abundance of mischievous high jinks, serious discipline problems didn't occur.  Once when a student seated on the left side of the classroom asked a question and  I moved in her direction to respond, Arthur thinking that I couldn't see him, was poised to deliver a blow to the person in front of him.  What he did not know was that a full length mirror on my supply closet gave me a full view of the pending assault. Without turning my body, I pointed in his direction and said, "Arthur Tillett, sit down !" The look of surprise was priceless.

   Looking back, I am embarrassed about  a prank I sometimes pulled on a student in French I. Asking students to translate phrase that I spoke, I would say to Sam (not his name) what does Je ne sais pas  mean ?" After a long befuddled silence, he would answer "I don't know" to which I responded "Right". I suspect that he never caught on.

    On the other end  of the academic spectrum, only John Timberlake accepted my challenge that if anyone would read and pass a test on William L. Shirer's Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, they would not  have to take the final exam.

  Then  there was Pierre (again, not his name). One morning, Mr.Titus asked that   I stay after school to meet with Pierre's father concerning his failing History. Dad greeted me with "These kids say that you are a hard teacher."    "But none can truthfully say that I am not fair", I replied.

With  Pierre sitting to the side with a smirk that threatened, "My daddy is going to clean your clock !", I proceeded to explain my grading system and his son's performance on each. Even now I remember  his final exam grade: 47. The man looked at the record then said, "He just didn't do what he was supposed to, did he !"  "Well, Mr. X, he is your son, but you said it".  Pierre's smirk disappeared when his father stood, shook my hand and sternly said, "Come on, boy !"

   After two years, I enrolled in graduate   school but was happy when I was asked to return as speaker at the next year's Junior-Senior Banquet (younger folks---think "Prom").  

   The high school closed in 1969 and  an elementary school continued for a few more years.  The  building now stands empty.  

   Two great years with many happy memories.

    Satchel

  

  

 

"IF I HAD KNOWN'

           Richard Cory   by Edwin Arlington Robinson

 This poem was in one of my high school literature books.  I think we  had to memorize it. It's an   ironic poem that makes the point  that we should not judge people based on appearances, especially with the unexpected last line .

    "Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

       We people on the pavement looked at him

       He was a gentleman from sole to crown,    

       Clean favored , and imperially slim.

       And he was always quietly arrayed,

       And he was always human when he talked;

      But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

      'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.

     And he was rich--yes, richer than a king--

     And admirably schooled in every grace;

    In fine, we thought he was everything

    To make us wish that we were in his place.

   So on we worked, and waited for the light,

   And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

   And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, 

   Went home and put a bullet through his head.

They didn't see that coming !  Unfortunately, we often do not see the 'signs' and know  how to respond. There is no 100% guaranteed way to recognize and intervene for the 'Richard Cory's' we meet in life.  Even so, there are ways to be more adept and 'comfortable' in interventions.  Simply asking someone if they are suicidal will not 'cause' them to do so. As a Mental Health Counselor, after asking someone if they were suicidal, I have more than once had them reply,"Thank God. Someone finally asked."   Contrary to common assumptions, suicides spike not around Christmas but in Spring.  So here we are in late April ---full Springtime. If you encounter someone you sense is suicidal ---what do you do? Put your search engine on QPR which stands for Question, Persuade and Refer --"the 3 simple steps anyone can learn to help save a life from suicide." (I make the recommendation  with no ties with QPR. Several years ago, I completed their training.)  Also, 988 is a Suicide Hotline operating 24/7. 

   Again, despite our best efforts, suicides sometimes occur. Still, we can be alert. Larry Pickard has given me permission to include the full text of his poem "Silent Call" :

                   Satchel

  

  

    

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY ?"

 

Well, sometimes Twain's  humor could be a tad "over the top" as  could his choice of words. He could  swear a blue streak to the chagrin of his good Christian wife. Eventually, she decided to put an end to his cussin'. Then one day he nicked himself while shaving and let out a stream of profanity that probably turned the room purple.She promptly repeated to him every word.  Stunned for a moment by her pluck, he recovered, smiled and said,"My dear! You got all the words right, but you don't know the tune !"

   When  I first heard that story, I didn't laugh aloud but I did think it 'funny'. Maybe because of the incongruity of it all.  Humor implies  the comical and absurdity in life. 

   What makes something 'funny' or 'humorous' for you? Or, to use a colloqualism, 'what tickles you?'  For me, it ranges from the slapstick, the 'dad jokes' (ok, well some of them) to the delightful puns. Despite that some nay-sayers deem puns 'the lowest form of humor', I think that they can be either delightfully subtle or blatantly obvious witticisms . There is one making the rounds in anticipation of tomorrow's solar eclipse: " Dad, can you explain a solar eclipse?"  "No sun". (speak it, don't just read it)

   The purposes or functions  of humor are numerous. It often serves as a kind of 'leveling the playing field' with a 'punching up' by those further down the socio-economic or power spectrum. 'Punching down', on the other hand, is cruel and demonstrates baser facets of character.  An example of the former occurred during my high school baseball practice when the coach's car parked on an incline in deep center field began rolling  down the hill. The coach (the authority figure) standing at home plate incredulously exclaimed, "Yonder goes my car !" Norman White (the student playing catcher) began rolling in hysterics. Coach's retort of "Not funny, White !" added to the  laughter.

   'Punching down', on the other hand, implies an attitude of  superiority whether in social status, wealth, race, gender, speech handicaps or physical blemishes.  Those are mockery.

    Recently I heard Garrison Keillor confess that as people get older, they get funnier. Once in my 20's, when   I had three times complimented 90+ year old Mrs. Caviness on her dress, she quipped, "Don't  strain your conscience, young man  ."

   This afternoon when I  told my daughter of my blog idea, she mentioned a Harvard research study on laughter.  Use your search engine to find 'Harvard research studies on laughter' and you will find several good explanations as to why laughter is good for the soul . . .   and for the body also.

     Satchel