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The Day I Almost Brought a Gun to School (Part 2 of 2 )

Steven’s “I’m gonna get you man,” and his demented eyes resurfaced as I walked back to my classroom after meeting with the principal and police officer. I thought he was disturbed enough to follow through on his threat of another student and also knew he was now armed with a handgun and roaming free. In my entire career, I’ve never been more frightened of the possible future and never endured a longer work day, every hour seeming like ten.

I always parked my truck right across the street from the building I worked in, and instead of entering it, I walked to my truck. As I crossed the street I pictured Steven slipping by our police officer who could not guard three different buildings at once. I visualized Steven shooting out the window of the outer door in my building, opening it, and then shattering the glass in my classroom door so that he could have a little target practice. This all could have happened in under a minute. Jack Nicholson’s role in “The Shining” never seemed more real. Continue reading “The Day I Almost Brought a Gun to School (Part 2 of 2 )”

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The Day I Almost Brought a Gun to School (Part 1 of 2)

Before I dive into my next diatribe, I do want to make it clear I’m far from anti-gun and actually own lots of them, rifles, handguns and at least one firearm, a 30 cal. M1 semiautomatic with a 30 shot clip, which would have to be considered an assault rifle. I’m not about to jump on the ban the guns bandwagon for reasons I’ll leave for some other time. However, a most recent movement to arm teachers serves only one good, and that’s demonstrating how ignorant and out of touch legislators are when it comes to issues regarding education and schools. Teachers packing heat? Good God, how wrong can this idea be? Continue reading “The Day I Almost Brought a Gun to School (Part 1 of 2)”

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Cambridge Basketball and My Pal Al

Quite frankly, I am most limited in trying to find anything I liked about winter in Cambridge. As the temperature there hovers a balmy 18 and thick snow blankets the region, I thought positive winter memories might be a good idea, but I don’t have any. OK, this isn’t really true. We had all sorts of fun even when it was so cold it actually hurt to go outdoors. In fact, most of us regularly braved the deep freeze for a CCS basketball game. No matter what your involvement, from spectator to cheerleader, the excitement in the middle of Old Man Winter drew so many people weekly it seemed that just about anyone in Cambridge who could get up and walk went to the games, a major community event. I don’t remember what pittance was charged for admission, but as far as entertainment value goes, I’ve yet to find a better deal. Even the sideshows were a hoot, one in particular I’ll share in detail with fond memories of a great natural comedian. Chevy Chase’s got nothin’ on my pal Al, a superior physical comedian, far better than a lot of famous professionals, and a darn good verbal one too. Continue reading “Cambridge Basketball and My Pal Al”

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We’re Nuts for You Class of ’92

I once worked for a publisher who fished a cigarette butt out of the men’s room urinal and then like Diogenes seeking an honest man went to every male in the newspaper plant, over 20 different guys, asking each as he held the soggy cancer stub in a wet paper towel, “Is this yours?”

“It sure is,” I wanted to respond. “Got a match?” I wasn’t quite that stupid, though, and knew with absolute certainty such a crack would have me fired on the spot. I’d already grown to believe my old boss viewed us all like a plantation owner did his field hands. Although he never said it directly, the message the Louisiana publisher and newspaper owner wanted to convey was that he would spare no indignity to find anyone who dared soil a urinal he owned. “Thou shall not disrespect my property” was clearly intended, and this definitely included the normally foul smelling, deeply stained WWII era plumbing fixture.

With that story in mind I pose a question: Who was easier on the mind to work for, the Louisiana slave driver or a compassionate, caring high school principal when the major task at hand was producing a good newspaper and quality student journalists? Hands down, boys and girls, the relationship with the publisher was far easier because the mission was well defined. When I taught journalism and sponsored a high school newspaper, it commonly seemed that doing a really good job often made my boss uncomfortable, and by then I’d long ago stopped throwing cigarettes into urinals. This is not to say I worked for bad administrators; they were quality people. Continue reading “We’re Nuts for You Class of ’92”

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Waterproof Negro Drowns in Bayou

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” the classic Dickens line rolls when I think about the Houma Daily Courier. Even more revealing is the headline this paragon of American journalism printed: “Waterproof Negro Drowns in Bayou.”

Now even a clod like me has a smidgen of basic physics in his background, enough to think most anything waterproof couldn’t drown, but not so according to the Courier, as it was generally referred to by the locals, or just as often by a good selection of epithets ending with Courier, or in more printable and just as common language, many diverse descriptions culminating in “rag.” Continue reading “Waterproof Negro Drowns in Bayou”

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Facebook Pardons a Sinner

Facebook in its divine benevolence apparently just pardoned a poor digital sinner who for the past five years has been barred from the hallowed halls of electronic chitchat. I relate this because it’s an interesting story from one who really does not get social media. Maybe this is age talking and maybe it’s more a case of fearing an invisible chain where every move is monitored and recorded today, I really don’t know, but I do know I made the great Facebook god mad a few years ago and now he (or she?) has apparently forgiven my great transgression, or more likely, just forgotten about it when rolling over a new data bank to monetize. Continue reading “Facebook Pardons a Sinner”

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Upside Down: Being on the Wrong End of a News Story

It was about six months into working as a Substandard Press reporter when I first began to think I wouldn’t be fired the following day. Most gradually, I started to gain a tiny bit of confidence that it might be possible to make a living being a professional observer of humanity and recorder of obscure bits of it. I also, quite frankly, fell in love with Hoosick Falls. The more I grew familiar with the community, the more I liked it, a small town in upstate New York struggling to get by but very willing to share what it had. Over 40 years later I still think I couldn’t have picked a better place to learn about real journalism, and, on a much broader scope, what it took to be a responsible adult.

In many communities, I might have been hung from the nearest lamppost for my first six months of terrible blunders in print, or at least had my car vandalized, but then my crudely hopped up 69 Camaro wasn’t worth vandalizing, even when it ran, which it often didn’t. When the Camaro wouldn’t start, I travelled to many news events on a rat Triumph chopper, another dangerous, rusty and despicably loud mode of uninspected and clearly illegal transportation. That old Brit bike also leaked as much oil as it burned, which was a lot, and this common Triumph condition led to the now classic statement: “Old Triumphs don’t leak by accident. They just like to mark their spot.” If the street hasn’t been paved in front of my old apartment, I’d bet I could still find evidence of my “spot,” most apt testimony to me as a stain maker as much as the machine’s contributions. Continue reading “Upside Down: Being on the Wrong End of a News Story”

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How School “Reform” Impacts Teacher Training and Retention

One might suppose upon superficial analysis of my various rants that I’m of the mind that a school cannot be improved without a change in the community it serves. This is inaccurate and I’ve personally experienced the opposite several times. A school can most definitely improve greatly irrespective of its student population and surrounding circumstances; I just fervently argue that the improvement in impoverished communities will still fall short of what can be accomplished in mostly middle and upper class environments, and have considerable hard and irrefutable evidence to support such thinking beyond my own experiences. This disadvantage is not due to some sort of natural inferiority of the people in poorer communities, but directly the product of the many more challenges poor people face in life just trying to survive. There’s no money for tutors when it’s hard to pay the rent each month. Basic survival will always come first. However, I do commonly call “school reform” an illusion and most definitely believe this to be true more times than it is not. Continue reading “How School “Reform” Impacts Teacher Training and Retention”

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Confessions of a Serial Book Report Criminal

I gave the same book report for three consecutive years without ever reading the book in question. My sins ultimately led to a great life lesson in the hallowed halls of CCS, one I used hundreds of times myself as a teacher, a lesson both academic and moral, perhaps the most important kind. I can thank two great Cambridge educators for the learning, Mary Lee Weeks and Richard Burdsall, librarian and English teacher, respectively. Continue reading “Confessions of a Serial Book Report Criminal”

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Spirit of 66 Part 1

When I first think of the Class of ’66 I get a tremendous headache. I can thank Don Hamilton for this. I’ll get back to Don’s vigorous and most spirited assault in a moment, and much more significant, Don’s great contribution to young people and the community, but first, here’s a tip of the hat to the CCS Class of ’66 as a whole, a group of people who were almost godlike to me when I first walked the halls of CCS. Continue reading “Spirit of 66 Part 1”