STORY PAGE
Teachers
First, let me say that I have had some of the best teachers a person could ask for.
For me school had it’s up’s and down’s. If the major “up” for me was completing high school, the down was having a bad teacher. Following are three stories. You may form your own opinion.
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I took more math courses than any two other disciplines combined. I was very good at math and my high school schedule had numerous accelerated courses in that subject. (A full year course taken in a half year was called an “accelerated” course. This allowed me to take more math courses in the time allowed.)
My Algebra teacher was my problem. She wasn’t a bad teacher; she was just bad for me. It was her obsession with homework. Not that she treated me any differently; she just chose to grade a large percentage of her class mark on homework. I worked two jobs after school and doing homework was limited to subjects where I needed the help. To her, the jobs should go. It didn’t matter that my test marks were among the highest in the class. (Because of the few homework papers I turned in, my current average was a “D” and on the low side at that)
To solve my problem, the boys’ dean allowed me to take that course in his outer office. His secretary helped with my questions, and except for her help, I was pretty much self-taught. In the dean’s office, I was however, allowed to do the required “homework” during that period. All grading was still the job of my previous teacher.
Thanks to the above, I managed to satisfy the Algebra teacher’s fascination with homework and bring my grades up. That, and the fact that New York State required that the regents exam accounted for one third of your final mark, allowed me to pass with a high “B” for the year. (I aced the Regents Exam, but had my lowest mark ever in math.)
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I cannot tell you if this particular teacher was good or bad at his job. I would guess from what I observed that he was good and well liked by all. I liked him. He was my study hall teacher. I had transferred to Johnson City High for my junior year. I had made new friends, and it was becoming the best year of high school for me. From my homeroom teacher to my English teacher, I liked them all. An added plus was that it was near the end of the year and my marks echoed the results.
When I did not need my study hall for doing homework, I could go to my favorite class, Architectural Drawing. I would leave my books on my study hall desk as soon as I arrived, and get a transfer slip to my drawing class. Before the end of that period, I would return to study hall with the slip signed proving that I had spent the time as indicated. I would then wait for the minute or two before the bell to go to my next class.
On one particular day, just before the bell, the study hall teacher called the class to attention. He introduced me as a new student that year and for those who didn’t know me, my name was “Two Gun Carr”. He further informed me that my next class would be in the Deans Office. This dean was not as nice as the one in the previous story.
The dean informed me that my study hall teacher had seen the book “Big Red” on the top of my desk. Being an old favorite story of his, he had opened it and flipped through the pages. There he had discovered the two guns in the cut out pages.
The dean then informed me that I would be allowed to complete the school year, but not allowed to return. All special privileges would be cancelled, and if there was an inappropriate incident on my part of any kind I would be gone immediately. If that happened, I would have to repeat my junior year again, but somewhere else. That said, he confiscated the book and both guns and sent me to my next class.
I made it through that year. I actually enjoyed every class. At the end of the year my grades were the best ever. In truth, I expected to be allowed to finish my next year there. It didn’t happen.
For those of you who do not think my punishment was not severe, consider this. I never took the guns from the hidden book or used them in any malicious way. They didn’t even have water in them.
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In my senior year I expected an easy time of English. Because of a residential move, my junior year was in Johnson City. Most of the English curriculum that I had taken at Johnson City as a junior was the same as that for a senior in Binghamton. In addition, in Binghamton, senior English was only a half-year program. How wrong can one be?
The first few weeks were great. I even talked the teacher into letting me borrow her poster of Glamis Castle that she had acquired on a trip to Scotland. It had 13 shades of blue and numerous grays and a few other colors as well. It was a perfect picture for a silkscreen project. According to my print shop teacher, one that could win me a scholarship.
To shorten the story, I failed an English test. The teacher demanded her poster be returned. My shop teacher intervened. My English teacher thought that my extra time spent on foolishness such as “print shop” was the reason for my failure on the test. The principal mediated by having me return the English teacher’s personal property. The English teacher in return was to compensate me for the cost of materials that I had spent on the silk screen to date. She was also was not allowed to have the poster in her classroom.
I managed to keep from failing English, but there was not adequate time remaining for me to start another silkscreen for the Printing scholarship. I did graduate. I kept working my two jobs. My printing job had no need for additional hours from me, nor did they need an apprentice that upcoming year. With no apprenticeship in sight and the loss of the probable scholarship (in my mind), in March, I joined the United States Coast Guard.
Life went on.
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