At 22, I officially became a paid teacher--thought I had the formula for making kids learn. At 22, I was confronted with my first English class--little did I know that several of those students could barely read and write coherent sentences as high school juniors. At 22, I began my journey into education--lessons began being taught, oftentimes the hard way.
Today I look on those early years with a smile; I had the great fortune to be "taken under the wings" of many peers who cemented my foundation by teaching me to have fun, to be a professional, and to retain my sense of humor. Much to their credit, I was free to share my experiences--enriching and humbling--without the feeling of being unfairly judged. Those teachers at Newcomerstown High School shaped me, and, to this day, I am certainly grateful for their unofficial mentoring. They "adopted" me because they cared about me, their students, and, most importantly, their profession--they evidently saw me as a link to the future, one who could carry on what they were fostering in me. About fifteen years after my start, I began to understand that point.
After five years, I moved to Strasburg High School where my development continued. There, I was so fortunate to work with peers who were "hungry," who were aspiring to greater heights, who wanted to be successful, and who were willing to "pay the price" to achieve. In short, I was part of a staff that truly had a genuine respect for one another and a collegiality second to none. We liked each other, we laughed together, and we succeeded in excelling at a high level. Our administration was outstanding--no secrets were held. Our principal and superintendent kept us informed, and when we needed corrected or reigned in, it was done face to face with no hidden agendas--trust was the glue. In time, though, many of us aspired for new challenges--I was one of those. Before leaving for my next spot at Dover High School, though, I knew I was departing a special place--that is why even today I laugh when people ridicule small schools. Yes, disadvantages are present, but the intimate atmosphere of small class sizes allowed so much quality teaching. My teaching span at Strasburg was ten years, years I cherish even today. Fifteen years after my start, I began to understand this teaching game.
My superintendent at Strasburg had often told me that "you never really grow in your profession until you're in your third job." Truthfully, I never caught the true message of that logic . . . until I began my third job. From there I began to grow in so many ways: I had experience, I had confidence, I had an understanding of how kids learned, and I had established my own comfort zone for how I wanted to teach. Fifteen years it had taken me to get past my sometimes overzealous approach to teaching and learning, my occasional too-quick-to-draw-conclusions mentality, and my periodic mentality of teaching material instead of kids. After fifteen years, I began to get the picture.
What I learned is that if I were going to be effective I had to demonstrate a command of my material; yes, I know that is so obvious, but if I wanted kids to become quality writers I had to do more than say, "You need to proofread better . . . to read more frequently . . . to learn your grammar . . . to practice your skills." My challenge became how do I do that? Oh, I read a bunch, but, in truth, none of the strategies seemed to fit my personality. Thus, my challenge became to find my own way, adapt teaching methods that most kids could relate to, yet still allow my personality to shine through. You see, I could not have done that early in my career simply because I was not that comfortable with me. To state it bluntly, I had to fail before I could succeed. When I finally had hit that sweet spot, my love of teaching truly blossomed.
I make no secrets of the fact that I loved teaching high school. The daily interaction with kids who have their adult lives before them certainly was challenging but, boy, was it rewarding. Part of teaching is pushing students to achieve, oftentimes in ways they do not want perhaps because they do not see the long-term benefits. However, a larger part of teaching is developing relationships with kids; I made a point of telling them that when they were my students we were not friends--friendly, yes, but not friends. When they graduated, we could become friends, but that gap always had to be present when they were students. Nonetheless, watching kids smile and interact, watching their personalities unfold, and watching their drive and determination surface were the rewards I received. So many students, of course, have been misguided by the environments they were raised or the friends they acquired, but occasionally I would see a few of those kids escape their trappings. Again, the rewards of teaching cannot be measured like a business's success--teaching's rewards are in human accomplishment, sometimes small and insignificant to an outsider but to teachers who know their kids those rewards are what we seek.
It took me about fifteen years, but for the next twenty years that I was fortunate enough to teach, I grew as a teacher. From watching intelligent and unique peers to discovering more about myself, I found my niche. Dover High School allowed me to practice my craft in an environment where excellence was expected, where standards were high, and where a professional environment was nurtured. When I retired after thirty-five years in education, I knew my high school journey was complete. Finishing my third job, I understood what Al Osler (Strasburg superintendent when I was there) had told me--I had become what I had hoped for . . . and I had an abundance of influence from peers who had shaped me. To conclude in a rather blunt way, my message can be interpreted in this way and is specifically designed for young teachers: Pay your dues, and learn!
Monday, December 29, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Perception Is Reality . . . Isn't It?
Are educators perceived as professionals?
I would think if any teacher/administrator were asked that question, the response would be an overwhelming "YES!" I would expect nothing to the contrary. However, if the taxpaying public were asked that same question, I suspect the majority would disagree for a variety of reasons . . . and that is where the disconnect occurs.
To begin this discussion, I must first explain a few key points:
*As my readers know, I am a retired public school teacher; as a result, my occasional bias toward the profession is genuine;
*Many of my friends and acquaintances outside the school building are not educators; thus, their views often conflict with mine.
*As a result of my interactions with both educators and non-educators, I can clearly see that how we (as educators) often view ourselves is not how everyone does . . . and that is why I am exploring this topic.
Writing on this sensitive matter is akin to walking through a field of landmines . . . moving gently forward but knowing possible danger lies ahead. Let me explore a few timeworn comments I have heard from others:
*You (educators) get three months off in the summer;
*You get holiday vacations;
*You get snow days;
*You get . . . fill in the blank.
I find myself cringing as I write those words, but these are the standard criticisms leveled toward teachers. While I find myself shaking my head at the aforementioned remarks, I do understand them because the majority of our working world do not always share those work perks . . . they get perks (time and a half, double time, . . .), but certainly not the same ones as educators. I get that, but, obviously, more details remain to be explored. Although many may attack the so-called easy life that teachers are perceived as living, that has little to do with my focus in this writing. I am not saying teachers are this and teachers are that and we should show more appreciation toward them; instead, I want to head in a slightly different direction.
The word professional has strong implications; doctors, nurses, and lawyers come to mind when I categorize how most people view professionals because their career choices require exit exams, ongoing education, personal interaction with the public, and, most frequently, confidentiality. Teachers--like doctors, nurses, and lawyers--must meet the same qualifications listed above. At one time long ago, teachers were highly regarded as professionals . . . but did something happen to alter that? I contend that--in the public's eyes--the answer is yes; in many ways, we as educators have contributed to our own perception. Being so bold to say that, I must explain my logic:
*Personal Appearance--I admit to being old school with various quirks as a result, but I am a firm believer in the adage of dressing for success. As a young teacher at Strasburg High School many years ago, I clearly remember my superintendent, Al Osler, gently reminding me that if I wanted to be treated as a professional then I had better dress as one. Watching my administrators wear suits/sport coats and ties every day was impressive; likewise, watching my male peers wear shirts and ties made an impact. I am not so naïve, however, as to think that just because a man wears a tie that he is automatically a quality teacher--I get that, and I also do not mean to imply that certain jobs within a school should require a tie (physical education, art, and industrial technology come to mind). What I am saying is that when we do not dress professionally, it merely provides the public with more ammunition to say we aren't professional because we look just like anyone else. I must stress that public schools rely on the support of communities, and those taxpayers are frequently quick to judge us in a negative light, deserved or not. When I wear a golf shirt to school, I am not so sure that I am sending the signal that I am a professional educator. (Many schools have "dress down days" where employees pay a fee toward a specific charity--I am not talking about those occasional times.) My financial advisors--bankers and investors--wear suits every time I meet with them; my doctor wears a shirt and tie under his lab coat; when I have consulted with an attorney, he is wearing a suit. My point should be obvious: If I want to be perceived as a professional, like the aforementioned, I need to at least look the role. My hunch--with no true facts to support it--is that if the perception is genuine, it will go a long way in influencing my standing within the community as well as with my students. One other point before I move on: Female educators who dress sharply ooze with professionalism; knowing that they take considerable pride in how they are perceived--just as with males--plays such an important role in how others view them.
*Public Comments--Human nature seems to indicate that we like to talk; I could probably go out on the proverbial limb and say we like to be heard. How often have we been in a conversation when the other person is already talking before we are done making our point? (Score that as one of my major weaknesses, as my wife tells me repeatedly to shut up and let her finish talking!) As educators, we frequently overstep our boundaries by making public comments that expose us to criticism (been there done that, by the way). Our often openly-stated wishes for snow days, for example, immediately send a negative signal to non-educators because they don't live in the same little world we do. Snow days in their work world are practically nonexistent and require them to find babysitters, to alter their everyday lives . . . ; to teachers, it mostly means a day off (even though we may be grading or preparing how to consolidate our lessons into fewer days) . . . non-teachers don't want to hear about our wishes. Additionally, we are occasionally guilty of sharing a bit too much information; while I attest that this is not peculiar to just the teaching profession, we certainly learn that parents do not want their kids' issues being discussed too openly. With the responsibility of teaching comes the responsibility of oftentimes keeping our personal observations, thoughts, and wishes to ourselves--when we step outside those boundaries, we are risking unnecessary criticism, particularly when we bring it on ourselves.
*Writing Skills--As an English teacher, I am heavily biased about this point. Simply stated, if we are professionals, we are expected to clearly understand how the English language works and to produce clear manuscripts that are distributed to our students via handouts, to scholarship committee members via recommendation letters, to our students' parents via written communication, and to our administrators and peers via occasional professional correspondence. It boils down to this: Can we write well? Allow me to answer my own question: Not always. I say that not as a criticism simply because all of us are wired differently--stereotypically, math teachers, for example, are not strong writers. Their minds are not "word-oriented"; rather, their minds are "number-oriented," thus making them experts in their field. (Conversely, most English teachers are weak in math!) We all know that humans have their niches; it is a rare occasion when someone has the whole package. However, when the public reads a teacher's correspondence that is poorly written, an immediate negative reaction is triggered. From my seat, it all comes down to knowing our strengths and weaknesses; when I need help with my taxes, I go to a tax preparer just as when I have a household plumbing problem, I call a plumber. As a teacher, if I know I am not a good writer, then I need to be sure to have a strong editor who can correct and improve my writing before it meets the public. When manuscripts are presented, they have to be reflective of competent writers whether we have edited the documents ourselves or whether we have had editorial help. With grammar mistakes, misspelled words, and confusing points present, the reading public is quick to pounce.
I suppose one could read this blog today and be quick to judge me as putting myself on a pedestal . . . that person would be wrong but not too far off. Maintaining the professionalism of educators is an important priority in my life--I don't want others criticizing us when we have control over certain elements. Facing the facts, I know that various situations arise where we are going to get criticized or perceived unfairly, warranted or not; however, presenting a positive, professional image is under our control, and I contend--paraphrasing my previously-mentioned mentor--if we want to be perceived as pros, then we had better hold up our end of the bargain!
mag.gunther@gmail.com
I would think if any teacher/administrator were asked that question, the response would be an overwhelming "YES!" I would expect nothing to the contrary. However, if the taxpaying public were asked that same question, I suspect the majority would disagree for a variety of reasons . . . and that is where the disconnect occurs.
To begin this discussion, I must first explain a few key points:
*As my readers know, I am a retired public school teacher; as a result, my occasional bias toward the profession is genuine;
*Many of my friends and acquaintances outside the school building are not educators; thus, their views often conflict with mine.
*As a result of my interactions with both educators and non-educators, I can clearly see that how we (as educators) often view ourselves is not how everyone does . . . and that is why I am exploring this topic.
Writing on this sensitive matter is akin to walking through a field of landmines . . . moving gently forward but knowing possible danger lies ahead. Let me explore a few timeworn comments I have heard from others:
*You (educators) get three months off in the summer;
*You get holiday vacations;
*You get snow days;
*You get . . . fill in the blank.
I find myself cringing as I write those words, but these are the standard criticisms leveled toward teachers. While I find myself shaking my head at the aforementioned remarks, I do understand them because the majority of our working world do not always share those work perks . . . they get perks (time and a half, double time, . . .), but certainly not the same ones as educators. I get that, but, obviously, more details remain to be explored. Although many may attack the so-called easy life that teachers are perceived as living, that has little to do with my focus in this writing. I am not saying teachers are this and teachers are that and we should show more appreciation toward them; instead, I want to head in a slightly different direction.
The word professional has strong implications; doctors, nurses, and lawyers come to mind when I categorize how most people view professionals because their career choices require exit exams, ongoing education, personal interaction with the public, and, most frequently, confidentiality. Teachers--like doctors, nurses, and lawyers--must meet the same qualifications listed above. At one time long ago, teachers were highly regarded as professionals . . . but did something happen to alter that? I contend that--in the public's eyes--the answer is yes; in many ways, we as educators have contributed to our own perception. Being so bold to say that, I must explain my logic:
*Personal Appearance--I admit to being old school with various quirks as a result, but I am a firm believer in the adage of dressing for success. As a young teacher at Strasburg High School many years ago, I clearly remember my superintendent, Al Osler, gently reminding me that if I wanted to be treated as a professional then I had better dress as one. Watching my administrators wear suits/sport coats and ties every day was impressive; likewise, watching my male peers wear shirts and ties made an impact. I am not so naïve, however, as to think that just because a man wears a tie that he is automatically a quality teacher--I get that, and I also do not mean to imply that certain jobs within a school should require a tie (physical education, art, and industrial technology come to mind). What I am saying is that when we do not dress professionally, it merely provides the public with more ammunition to say we aren't professional because we look just like anyone else. I must stress that public schools rely on the support of communities, and those taxpayers are frequently quick to judge us in a negative light, deserved or not. When I wear a golf shirt to school, I am not so sure that I am sending the signal that I am a professional educator. (Many schools have "dress down days" where employees pay a fee toward a specific charity--I am not talking about those occasional times.) My financial advisors--bankers and investors--wear suits every time I meet with them; my doctor wears a shirt and tie under his lab coat; when I have consulted with an attorney, he is wearing a suit. My point should be obvious: If I want to be perceived as a professional, like the aforementioned, I need to at least look the role. My hunch--with no true facts to support it--is that if the perception is genuine, it will go a long way in influencing my standing within the community as well as with my students. One other point before I move on: Female educators who dress sharply ooze with professionalism; knowing that they take considerable pride in how they are perceived--just as with males--plays such an important role in how others view them.
*Public Comments--Human nature seems to indicate that we like to talk; I could probably go out on the proverbial limb and say we like to be heard. How often have we been in a conversation when the other person is already talking before we are done making our point? (Score that as one of my major weaknesses, as my wife tells me repeatedly to shut up and let her finish talking!) As educators, we frequently overstep our boundaries by making public comments that expose us to criticism (been there done that, by the way). Our often openly-stated wishes for snow days, for example, immediately send a negative signal to non-educators because they don't live in the same little world we do. Snow days in their work world are practically nonexistent and require them to find babysitters, to alter their everyday lives . . . ; to teachers, it mostly means a day off (even though we may be grading or preparing how to consolidate our lessons into fewer days) . . . non-teachers don't want to hear about our wishes. Additionally, we are occasionally guilty of sharing a bit too much information; while I attest that this is not peculiar to just the teaching profession, we certainly learn that parents do not want their kids' issues being discussed too openly. With the responsibility of teaching comes the responsibility of oftentimes keeping our personal observations, thoughts, and wishes to ourselves--when we step outside those boundaries, we are risking unnecessary criticism, particularly when we bring it on ourselves.
*Writing Skills--As an English teacher, I am heavily biased about this point. Simply stated, if we are professionals, we are expected to clearly understand how the English language works and to produce clear manuscripts that are distributed to our students via handouts, to scholarship committee members via recommendation letters, to our students' parents via written communication, and to our administrators and peers via occasional professional correspondence. It boils down to this: Can we write well? Allow me to answer my own question: Not always. I say that not as a criticism simply because all of us are wired differently--stereotypically, math teachers, for example, are not strong writers. Their minds are not "word-oriented"; rather, their minds are "number-oriented," thus making them experts in their field. (Conversely, most English teachers are weak in math!) We all know that humans have their niches; it is a rare occasion when someone has the whole package. However, when the public reads a teacher's correspondence that is poorly written, an immediate negative reaction is triggered. From my seat, it all comes down to knowing our strengths and weaknesses; when I need help with my taxes, I go to a tax preparer just as when I have a household plumbing problem, I call a plumber. As a teacher, if I know I am not a good writer, then I need to be sure to have a strong editor who can correct and improve my writing before it meets the public. When manuscripts are presented, they have to be reflective of competent writers whether we have edited the documents ourselves or whether we have had editorial help. With grammar mistakes, misspelled words, and confusing points present, the reading public is quick to pounce.
I suppose one could read this blog today and be quick to judge me as putting myself on a pedestal . . . that person would be wrong but not too far off. Maintaining the professionalism of educators is an important priority in my life--I don't want others criticizing us when we have control over certain elements. Facing the facts, I know that various situations arise where we are going to get criticized or perceived unfairly, warranted or not; however, presenting a positive, professional image is under our control, and I contend--paraphrasing my previously-mentioned mentor--if we want to be perceived as pros, then we had better hold up our end of the bargain!
mag.gunther@gmail.com
Thursday, December 4, 2014
A Tribute: Charlie Huggins
Because it is the beginning of the high school basketball season, I find it appropriate to pay tribute to a Tuscarawas County coaching icon: Charlie Huggins. Saying thanks is something we typically reserve for Thanksgiving Day--noble but oftentimes quite scripted. Writing this blog, however, allows me the freedom to look back over my life and periodically thank those who have shaped me. Consider this to be the first thank you--more may occasionally surface as time moves on. Also, this tribute runs longer than my normal blog, but I hope it will hold your attention. (Note: Most of what follows was originally written in 2000 and has been published in a book my Dover High School students and I wrote entitled We Couldn't Have Done It Alone . . . Volume II.)
As I have made my way, I have had the wonderful opportunity to have thoroughly enjoyed how I have earned my living. Doors have been opened, relationships have been made, and reputations have been established. Obviously, my parents and their upbringing were instrumental in my development. However, one other person steered me in the right direction. Today, I am paying tribute to a man who influenced me so much.
A taskmaster? Definitely. A teacher? Definitely. A motivator? Definitely. A character? Definitely! It is true I have been motivated by so many people throughout my life, but it is one individual who shaped me, nurtured me, and forced me to see what I could become. That man was Charlie Huggins, the absolute best basketball coach I have ever seen.
The reputation of Coach Huggins certainly preceded him before he became the basketball coach at Indian Valley South High School in the 1970 summer. As a soon-to-be sophomore who loved basketball, I soon realized I would be entering a world I had never before been. In his initial meeting with his players, I heard him explain how the goal was to win the state championship, an ambitious dream yet one that captured my thoughts. Soon thereafter, my classmates and I were making three trips a week to Sherrodsville where Coach Huggins's fledgling basketball camp was located. For the first time, I was in a summer league playing against opponents from other schools and starting on the educational trip of my life. Little did I realize where that trip would lead me.
As my familiarity with the coach increased, so did my respect. I was always in awe of him, and it soon became obvious that if I could only withstand the pressure of playing for him, I would soon join a select club, a somewhat elite club, of those who had survived. He had an aura about him that demanded respect. Whether it was his piercing voice, his impressive knowledge, his motivational tactics, his unceasing baiting of officials, or his reputation for winning, we all knew he was the one who was going to make us better players and better individuals than we had been. Simply put, we believed . . . and that was the key.
I would like to say I totally worshipped the man, but in so doing I would not be telling the whole truth. The fact is I went through periods where I literally could not stand him. In the midst of three-to-four hour nightly practices, I found it so easy to wish I were home doing something else, anything but standing in that Port Washington gym listening to him rant and rave about our lack of mental discipline. Moments existed when I wanted nothing more than for him to suddenly "pack up and head out of town." While in those situations, I could not understand his motivational tactics. He had a way of knocking each of us down emotionally and then gradually pulling us back up. What I did not grasp at the time was that he truly knew what made each of us "tick" . . . he knew us better than we knew ourselves. So, while he was knocking us down and preventing us from becoming arrogant over our successes, he was successfully uniting our team. Because none of us were spared, he was forcing us to have one common individual to unify our frustrations: him . . . and not our teammates.
It took me years to understand his strategies, but in time I realized what he had done. He knew each of us was not going to quit, despite our private thoughts of doing just that. Rather, he knew he had what each of us wanted: a winner . . . and he was so right. When the time came for our mental discipline to be exposed, we met the challenge, time after time. Those long nights of practice, those incessant corrections about doing tasks exactly right instead of almost right, and the constant repetition of drills had accomplished what he had anticipated. We blossomed into an outstanding team, a 51-1 team, and the primary reason was Coach Huggins.
Simply writing about what I remember from my high school days would encompass so many pages that it would be unfeasible to do so. In addition, the winning my high school teams did is not why I am writing my tribute to Coach Huggins. I am writing this to verify why he has been so invaluable in my life. It has taken me many years to sit down and say what I have wanted to this man, so this tribute is long overdue. To Coach Charlie Huggins, I proudly write these words:
Coach, thanks for kicking me (figuratively) in the hind end when I was playing for you. Your persistence in instilling a work ethic has never left me, and I truly realize that self-discipline is such an integral part of individual success.
Coach, thanks for making me learn basketball; I do not mean just the X and O part of the game--I mean the attention to detail, the importance of execution, and the team concept. When I became a coach, I quickly realized how well prepared I was about the fundamentals of the game. Your devotion to these fundamentals truly made you "a man ahead of your times."
Coach, thanks for allowing a highly average player to reach his ability level. Because you realized there was a role for kid who would work hard for you, you made me feel I could be a part of a great tradition; I have never forgotten that you gave me a tremendous opportunity.
Coach, thanks for teaching me about loyalty. You made it clear--without ever saying it--that if I could endure your coaching, I would have earned a special place in your heart . . . and you have never forgotten.
Coach, thanks for showing me how important it is to always be a student, whether that be academic or athletic. Through your continual devotion to your camp, you were always learning the game so that you would have the edge over your competition. That same principle remained paramount in my professional life; I knew I could not sit idly back and rest on my laurels. The moment that would happen is when I would lose my edge . . . I learned that merely by observing you.
Coach, thanks for remaining loyal to your values. To this day, I have never heard you swear, and I have never heard you waiver from your beliefs. I have learned that a strong man is one who lives by a value system, whether it is identical to yours or not.
Coach, thanks for remaining humble through all those years. Anyone who has ever heard your name has an opinion of you--some complimentary, some not--but all know how great a coach you were. From you, I have learned that the moment success controls me is the moment I begin to become less effective. To continually be working toward success is the sign of humility.
Coach, thanks for your sense of humor. I always knew you would make me laugh in one way or another. That ability to successfully intermix discipline, hard work, and a sense of humor continues to impress me. You had a way of making me realize that when we were done with our work for the evening, we could still enjoy each other's uniqueness. If imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, then I have paid you the most sincere compliment simply because I always tried to do the same in my role as a teacher and a coach . . . and it worked.
For all these years, I had wanted to sincerely thank Coach Huggins for his role in my life, but quite frankly, I had always found it so difficult to walk up to the man and express what I had wanted to say. During the 1998 summer, however, I almost cracked. While working his camp to watch our Dover High School basketball players, I was talking with Coach Huggins when he suddenly interrupted our conversation by saying, "Mikey, you should be proud of yourself. You've made yourself into a successful man, a great teacher, and an excellent coach. I'm proud of you."
I absolutely did not know what to say. Quickly, I uttered a thank you, and then both of us were on our way doing something else. What Coach did not realize was that I had waited my whole adult life to hear those words. As I drove home that evening, I could think of nothing but our conversation. Part way home, I realized I had tears running from my eyes. I had won his respect, and his words only cemented the fact that I became who I am today largely because of my relationship with him.
From a skinny high school sophomore to a balding middle-aged man, I have been on an amazing educational trip. The teacher: Charlie Huggins, a man who made his mark on my life and a man whom I truly admire.
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