I know those sessions can be valuable. We teachers were required to attend. Yes, I did sometimes learn useful methods and pick up some good new ideas. But there were too many that were worse than losing the time because they talked down to us, assumed we knew very little, that we were on a level lower than professional, and ground the “Expert” foot on the teacher’s neck, when too often that “Expert” had never set that foot inside a real classroom.

I was a quiet rebel. I found ways. Like the “poem” I wrote that appeared in edcentric, Issue # 40-41, Spring-Summer, 1977, page 23.

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EDUCATIONAL PRACTICE

DIRECTIONS of the PRACTICUM


Observe the Process

1950

(you) shall

(you) must

(you) will


1960

Take it

(and like it)


1970

Take it


1980

…

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I was all the time growing up, still a punky kid, but serious about really teaching. I could learn, I did get better, but still took every opportunity I could to skewer what needed the jab. I remember the presentation, this time by an educated and serious imported guest professional, talking about the ranges of literature, the impact of Southern writers on their European counterparts, and then the importance of criticism and the way student writing reflects the contexts we provide for them. My English Major mind said, “Yes,” and I happily ate it up. We had a District Administrator introduce the speaker. Our Administrator was known to be slower than a President, she was sitting down in the front, and half way through the presentation she half stood up and she said out of nowhere, “I’m from the South.”

Everything stopped. Many laughed. The speaker got back to her presentation, some people whispered about Southern stereotypes and the time it takes for the light to come on. We knew it was a slow reaction to the reference about Southern literature a half hour earlier. I shared in sad head shaking, but later learned that Administrator was able to deal with issues at her own pace and wrote letters of substance. I’m able to learn and to change my mind or modify my opinions. I can give people the benefit of the doubt, probably because I have such a ready supply of doubt.

I was not really a trouble maker, but I did interject an alternative view when needed. I remember a workshop where we were to practice following writing prompts as if we were students in our own classrooms. We were asked to write a recipe for cooking with easy steps to follow. A good prompt. I hope I can find my recipe for how to cook bat. I jumped from the assembling of the ingredients, the methods of capture, then the way to keep the wings crispy, and the final plattered presentation with a grape in the mouth, held in place by the sharp pointed teeth. My fellow participants confessed that they hadn’t realized that they might like to try bat. That went over well.

But then we were forced into a presentation where two students were paired, one to issue directions, the other to carry them out. I was the one chosen to follow directions. I’ve always had a problem with that. I keep saying that I don’t mean to be wicked, but sometimes it seems that I just can’t help it. I allowed my interpretation of the directions to get me down on the floor, crawling across the room to my director and biting him on the leg. Not very hard, I have to say, but dramatic. That quickly ended the session. The presenters said they hadn’t realized that giving directions could turn dangerous, I didn’t give a Nazi salute, and we broke early for lunch. My daughter just hearing about this, said with some judgmental shock, “Did you really…?” I tried not to be slightly smug as I thought with some satisfaction, “I can still be the younger one!”