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| Breakfast Friday (on Thursday) at Stax (JWB Photo) |
The photo above
shows my good friends Bill and Charlie, along with Bill’s son, Tim, and Tim’s
significant other, Jessica, enjoying breakfast at Stax at 1401 West Taylor
Street. A great place for breakfast in
Chicago . . . you won’t eat for the rest of the day after you have cleaned your
plate at Stax.
Close to 25 years
ago, Charlie and I, along with another good friend, Jim, began going out for
breakfast on Friday. I don’t remember
how the decision was made or who came up with the idea, but for over two
decades now I’ve been sitting down with a changing cast of characters every
Friday for breakfast. The latest
iteration most commonly includes Bill and Charlie as you can see.
It’s a good
tradition, I think. There’s something to
be said for sitting down at the end of the week and having a few laughs before
heading off to complete the work week.
We’re all retired from teaching now, but back when we were working the
laughs we shared over that Friday breakfast carried us through the day and, sometimes, through the next week.
Speaking of which .
. . in the next week or two teachers will be returning to their classrooms,
ready to face a whole new group of students.
It has been awhile, but I remember what that felt like – the heady
anticipation of getting back into the game, mixed with the dread of all the
planning, assignments, and grading that was to fill the fall and winter and
spring. It all comes back to me as I
listen to our daughter, Kristen, talk excitedly about beginning a new school
year at a new high school.
She and all of the
dedicated teachers like her deserve a whole lot more credit than they get most
of the time.
A couple of days
ago I was listening to The Talk in
the afternoon (don’t ask), and from out of the blue the subject of school and
homework came up. After a few moments of
air-headed discussion, one of the women said something to the effect of “I pay
taxes for education, so why can’t these teachers teach my kids what they need
to know without sending all of this homework home?” What I think she was saying was that because
she paid her taxes, she was no longer obligated to fool around with the messy
process of educating her children.
To be a teacher is
to work your tail off. It’s gratifying
work most of the time, and over six years away from the classroom I still can’t
think of a better way to earn a living.
But it also means dealing with attitudes like the one I just mentioned
every single day.
Everything is
dumped on a teacher. Somehow they must
assume responsibility for expertise in their subject area as well as the
ability to present that expertise in an engaging way. They must be disciplinarians even as they model compassion. They must present the perils of substance
abuse, make sure that bullying is quashed, that the responsibilities of sexual
relationships are understood.
They must somehow
discourage prejudice and underscore the importance of treating all individuals
with dignity in a society in which Stand
Your Ground is rapidly becoming the new ethos. Teachers must make sure that the quiet ones
are heard and that the loud ones understand that there is a big difference
between hearing and listening.
There are dozens of
other expectations that society places on a teacher. And when the school day is over they go home
to grade papers and plan for the next day when they will come back and do the
whole thing all over again.
In close to 35
years of teaching I was lucky to see a number of my students make the choice to
go into teaching. All of them could have
been successful in any occupation they chose.
Over the time I spent with them I read their most intimate thoughts in
the assignments they prepared, I listened to them as they struggled to make
sense of the literature they read and its connection to the world they knew and
the world they hoped for, and as I walked around their classroom I was continually
impressed at how attentively they listened to each other.
I know for a fact
that none of those bright kids chose teaching as a career because he or she
would have the summer off.
So here’s to my old
retired mates . . . the way you spent your working years was worth it. It had meaning. You know it and I know it.
And here’s to my
buddies back at the Carl Sandburg English department. Keep up the good work . . . take care of each
other . . . make it a good year.
And with a whole
bunch of pride and respect, here’s to all you kids who grew up to be
teachers. Our daughter, Kristen. Joe and
Aly. Lauren, Bailey, Kristine, Derrick,
Gina. Sabrina, Holly and Rose. Jill and Maureen. Becky, Missy, Alec. Hemant and Michelle. And all of the rest of you who make a
difference every day.
Be good to yourselves. Be good to the special people who are a part
of your lives.
If you’re ever
looking to have a good breakfast on a Friday, let me know.
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