My last day at Alhambra High School has to be one of the more difficult stories for me to tell. However, had I stayed, no doubt matters would have been definitely not pleasant.
No doubt my run-ins with the department chairman (whose curve I skewed) was the main factor. Yep, I can remember him bragging in the faculty room about having been able to give a senior girl who carried an A average her entire school history, her first B+ grade ever. Although wordless, I did some things behind the backs that I’ll leave to your imagination; and more important, that I’m not very proud about esp. with the girl not complaining. A big thing I learned from the incident, though, is that when you have a student who fails to learn, you may also have a teacher who has failed to teach. I did pass this on to Ken that day, getting only a smirk in return.
However, I couldn’t contain myself another day in the faculty room when he was laughing about a student teacher asking him to withdraw his letter of recommendation because it was keeping him from getting a job. I recall getting a few smiles from faculty members when I asked him to explain the difference between what he did and asking the person to use his knife; then, stabbing him in the back with it?
Yep, I can remember the Principal who has just returned from a sabbatical calling me in his office shortly after that and telling me that because of student and parent support I might well win my case; but, that if I lost it, I’d never get a job in the state of California ever again. Then, when he added that if I won, I would be given the worst classes possible to teach (what they called dumb-bell math), the decision was a no-brainer.
Although there were only a few weeks left in the school year, it was made known that I would receive negative recommendations if I were to let the students know. In other words, my leaving wasn’t to be mentioned for fear of student reaction.
But, the students knew. On the last day when I went to open the door for dismissal, the students didn’t flock out as usual. Instead, they were all in a line, shaking my hand on their way out. As there were many hugs thrown in the mix, needless to say, by the end of the day I was a mess.
However, the department chairman actually saved the day when he came up to me holding out his hand to shake, asking me if he could write me a letter of recommendation. Now, I couldn’t have been more startled. Then, my whole body shook as I tried to hold back laughter. Yep, I can recall choking and spitting into my hand then reaching for his, saying: “Nope, I thinks you’ve skewed my curve enough already”. He got the message. Still, I was impressed at the speed he withdrew his hand.
End of story? Not really. Since it was a year before the Rock classes began to eat me up time wise, I was able to go back to Alhambra for the Friday night football games where I’d meet up with a lot of my past students at the local malt shop. As lots of memories would be shared, I recall being asked early on as to why I left so suddenly. When I went into my options, mainly the possibility of never being able to teach in California again, they all nodded in understanding; except for this one kid.
Oh, he nodded OK, but he blew me away when he added: “That might be true, but you still ran off and left us to fend for ourselves!” Yep, there wasn’t a word I could say. How does one justify running out on family? I’ll tell you one thing, though, because of what that young man said, I’ve never run again. Never!
Now, to put it all in perspective, that was the year I came to Goddard; and, where our rock program was, evidently, where I belonged. It was also the year that Ronald Regan was governor of California and signed an order that sex-education be taken out of our schools; hence, no more question box. Still, had I not began losing my hearing early on at Goddard, I would really consider holding a little time for rap sessions out of a question box. Yep, a teacher might be well surprised at what they might learn.
That said, and perhaps Fate just playing it’s hand to get me where I was evidently supposed to be, that young man’s comment lingers to this day: “That might be true, but you still ran off and left us to fend for ourselves!” How do I forgive myself for that? At least I learned from it.
Wishing you well,