But I had made that little boy think. I started something in him that emerged as an idea. I got him excited by a concept. And that's a lot!
Sometimes, of course, I am misled by their eagerness. There's a girl who never takes her eyes off me. This morning, when I asked a question about Brutus, she flung out her hand, pleading to be recognized. When I called on her, she said: "You wearing contack lens?"
It's a good thing Bester wasn't there to observe me. Yet there's more to that man than meets the eye. I'm impressed by his masterly handling of what's known hereabouts as "a discipline problem." He had stepped into the Early Late Room (don't ask me to explain what it is, nor why I was there) and asked one of the boys for his program card. "Aw, go jump in the lake," said the boy. The class sucked in its breath. With icy courtesy, Bester asked the boy to repeat what he had said, please. The boy did. "What were the first two words?" Bester asked, exquisitely polite. "Aw go." "Would you say that again, please?" "Aw go." "What was it again?" "Aw go." "Would you mind repeating the next word?" "Jump." "Again, please?" "Jump." "Again?" "Jump." Do you know how absurd the word "jump" can begin to sound after a while, when spoken solemnly by a boy standing among his peers? The boy was licked, and he knew it; the snickering class knew it; Bester knew it; and as he left, he said, with the same impeccable courtesy: "I'll be glad to recommend you for a remedial speech class."
I wish I could learn his assurance. It's in my homeroom that I feel such a failure. They are still suspicious of me. They are still trying me out. One girl, shy and troubled, did reach out. She asked to see me after school last Monday. She was apparently afraid to go home. Unfortunately, it was the day of the Faculty Conference, which is sacrosanct; attendance is compulsory. Perhaps I could have helped her. She hasn't been in school since. Truant officer reports she has run away from home.
At the Conference (we're supposed to sit it out for one hour each month; anything less, I believe, is unlawful) I watched my brothers and sisters, resignation or indifference settled like fine dust upon themexcept for a few nervous souls who kept stirring up the soup. As a new teacher, I understood the protococlass="underline" I was not to speak. I was, however, asked to write up the minutes. I took notes, which I must now type up, and I timed the meeting: 60 minutes to the second!
All our hours and minutes are accounted for, planned for, raced against. Preparations are already afoot for Open School Day and the Xmas Faculty Show, and there are strange portents in the air and on the bulletin board. Only this morning a cryptic notice appeared over the time clock: "Advanced Algebra will be offered next term until further notice." I don't know what it means, either; nor what "minimal standards and maximal goals" meansit's a problem of communication.
Communication. If I knew how to reach them, I might be able to teach them. I asked them to write for me what they had covered so far in their high school English, and what they hoped to achieve in my class. Their papers were a revelation: I saw how barren were the years they brought me; I saw how desperately they need me, or someone like me. There aren't enough of us. Yetwith all my eagerness to teach, teaching is the one thing Calvin Coolidge makes all but impossible.
To the outside world, of course, this job is a cinch: 9 to 3, five days a week, two months' summer vacation with pay, all legal holidays, prestige and respect. My mother, for example, has the pleasant notion that my day consists of nodding graciously to the rustle of starched curtsies and a chorus of respectful voices bidding me good morning.
It's so good to have you to write to!
Love,
Syl
P. S. Did you know that in New York City there are more than 800 schools, over 86 high schools, and about one million pupils? And that out of every 100 children who start school, only 15 go on to receive a college diploma? For most, this is all the education they'll ever get.
12. A Doze of English
In answer to your question what we got out of English so far I am answering that so far I got without a doubt nothing out of English. Teachers were sourcastic sourpuses or nervous wrecks. Half the time they were from other subjects or only subs. One term we had 9 different subs in English. Once when Dr. Bester took our class I got a glimpse of what it's all about but being the Head he isn't allowed to teach.
Also no place to learn. Last term we had no desks to write only wet slabs from the fawcets because our English was in the Science Lab and before that we had no chairs because of being held in Gym where we had to squatt.
Even the regulars Mrs. Lewis made it so boreing I wore myself out yawning, and Mr. Loomis (a Math) hated teaching and us. Teachers try to make us feel lower than themselves, maybe this is because they feel lower than outside people. One teacher told me to get out of the room and never come back, which I did.
A Cutter
What I got out of it is Litterature and Books. Also some Potery. And just before a testa doze of English. Having Boys in class dis-tracks me from my English. Better luck next time.
Linda Rosen
In Miss Pastorfeilds class I really enjoyed it we had these modren methods like Amature Hour and Gussing Games in rows with a scorekepper and to draw stick figures to show the different characters in the different books and Speling Hospital and Puntuation Trafic and Sentence Baseball with prizes for all thats the way to really learn English.
A True Student
I only learned one thing and that is a "quotion mark" I know a "quotion mark" upside down and that's all this one teacher thaught. I had one well not to mention no names and she was mad for "grammar" mistakes, Miss Lewis loved to pick on me! With Pasterfield we "dramatized" everything in sight and my last was a bug on "Democricy", we spent all our time voting on what to do and no time to do it.
Only once I had a teacher that was any good but she got "sick" and left. I hope this term with you will be good because you seem to be "alive" though it's too early to tell.
Chas. H. Robbins
I hate to think back on all my English years except one teacher I will never forget because when my note book wasn't so good (it was mostly in pencil) instead of telling me to do it over in ink she just told me to put renforcements on the holes and that will be enough. The next day she asked me did I put renforcements in. When I said I did she didn't even look she just said she'd take my word for it. That gave me a warm feeling inside because it was the first time a teacher took a pupil's word without asking to see if it was true. Most of the time they don't even know your name.
Me
In two years of H.S. Eng. I learned
1. How to read a newspaper
A. Headlines
2. How to outline
3. Comparises of authors (Hawthore)
4. And S. Marner
They shouldn't give S. Marners out. We would prefer a teen age book like Lollita better.
Teenager
During my many years of frequenting school I was well satisfied with my instruction. English is a very important language to study, especially if it's the language we speak daily. Since most of us are in High School, we are interested in getting an English education. I believe English to have been of grave importance to me and I will try in my next future to increase my knowledge. English outshines all my other subjects. I've always had good marks because I am a worker and I feel that anything a teacher tells me is of benefit to me. Speaking, which is my specialty, composition, which also attracts my attention, writing perfect sentences with punctuation where it really belongs, and many others which are of grave importance have been taught to me with excellent results. I was likewise impressed by the good work of my classmates. I hope to achieve further progress in my chosen program of study with an excellent teacher like yourself.