teacher man

I just finished reading my new favorite book.

Many of you may have heard of the Irish American, Frank McCourt, who published Angela's Ashes. I never read that book, but now it's on my list.

The book I did read is called Teacher Man. It details Mr. McCourt's life as an English teacher in the high schools of New York City. It spoke to me on many levels, mainly becase he was an English teacher and I could relate to some of his grammar troubles, but also on the fact that, though I do have the degree in one hand and the license in the other, I am scared to death of my first year of teaching.

Mr. McCourt tells stories of sucess, failure, upset, challenge, and triumph. (He actually ended up winning a few Teacher of the Year awards). It helped me see that yes, there are the good times being teacher, when a student says thanks many years down the road. Also, you always get through the bad times.

He talks about being a substitute for part of a year (he was fired from his full-time job), and considering my position in life right now as a sub, I had to just laugh and nod in agreement to what he said. I wanted to share a bit of it now:

"I was assigned classes in English or wherever a teacher was needed:biology, art, physics, history, mathematics. Substitute teachers like me floated somewhere on the fringes of reality. I was asked daily, And who are you today? Mrs. Katz. Oh. And that's what you were...You were never yourself. You were always Oh...In the classroom I had no authority. Assistant principals sometimes told me to teach, but students paid no attention and there was nothing I could do. The ones who came to class ignored me and chatted, asked for the pass, rested their heads on desks and dozed, floated paper airplanes, studied for other subjects...Principals and their assistants looked displeased when they saw me sitting at the teacher's desk reading the paper or a book in a near-empty classroom. They said I should be teaching. That's what I was hired for. I would gladly teacher, I said, but this is physics class and my license is in English. They knew it was a silly question, but they were supervisors and had to ask, Where are the kids? Everyone in every school knew the rule: When you see a substitute teacher, run, baby, run." (Frank McCourt, Teacher Man, p. 178-179.)

Last night I couldn't fall to sleep until almost 1a.m. My mind was racing about getting that real teaching job. I know I'd be a great teacher, and I learned a vast amount from Mr. McCourt, my new hero.

And if I have to sub one more year, I think I'll shoot myself.