My first real job, beyond after-school and summer jobs, was as a teacher at Cass City High School.
Given the current talk of teacher shortages, it is hard to remember that in the late 70s, there was an oversupply of teachers. This was particularly true of social studies teachers, whom I had more than one person tell me were "A dime a dozen."
I started at the University of Michigan as Pre-Law. My dorm room faced the Law School, and I dreamed of being a lawyer someday, if not Perry Mason, at least Clarence Darrow.
Things did not go that way. I had a girlfriend whose father passed, and I was concerned about how she would pay for her schooling. I thought the School of Education would get me out earning money sooner if she needed help.
Well, it wasn't long before she broke up with me. Heartsickness and inertia kept me on the same course. I also found out how poor an advocate I was when I took college Debate and was beaten by two football players (and, yes, I know that football players can be academic achievers - however, these two did not fall into that category).
My student teaching went well, assisting with Social Studies and US History at Willow Run High School. The town had many Southerners who had come up starting in World War II to work at the Willow Run munitions plant. Many of the students still spoke with a heavy Southern accent.
I constructed a big game around the Horatio Alger myth (that all it took to be rich was pluck and hard work). Students took on different roles and tried to improve their economic and social condition. Those already rich had plenty of advantages, and the deck was stacked against the poor. I'm not sure this game would fly today, what with the great WHITEwashing of American History that is going on.
After graduating, I tried to blanket the Michigan school systems with letters and resumes. It's not like today - each letter had to be hand-typed on my old Smith-Corona. My typing skills were poor, and my error rate was high, so this took some time.
I got a few interviews, but the primary question was always the same - "What'dya coach?" There was a tremendous prejudice that social studies teachers needed to coach athletics to justify one's existence.
Finally, only a few weeks before the school year began, I was interviewed by Cass City. They had a position open, but not for Social Studies. It was to teach English and Speech, two subjects I had minored in. They also wanted a Debate coach. I did not explain my dismal history with Debate but bluffed my way about how good I could do.
I got the job.
I thought I had no pictures from this time, but last week, while looking for other photos, I stumbled across this album I had forgotten about that had some grotesquely faded photos from that time.
The picture above shows me at my desk. I don't remember who the student was. If you can see the board, what was written was "Intellectual Dodge Ball." That sounds like something I would try to pull off.
The student pictured above was part of our Debate Team. His name was Tim, and he was a very brilliant student.
We had little resources to pull for debate prep, mostly Newsweek and Time. This was WAY before the internet. Other schools had many more resources, like our neighboring competitor, Caro.
We made up for the lack of resources with sheer bravado and intellect. Our affirmative team had one good solid case to defend backward and forward, displaying extreme confidence. The negative team oozed Willaim Buckley's disdain level and sharpened lines of attacks against all pro cases. The topic that year? Universal health care.
The Debate team received their highest placement ever, 3rd in the state in their class division.
I believe this faded picture from days gone by is the Debate team in a prep session. I am seated near the back.
I taught 9th grade modified English. This was a class for non-college-bound students. They didn't like school, and they didn't want to be there. They represented quite a discipline challenge. I had some students sneak out a window the first week or so. Gradually, though, I developed a system of rewards that motivated them more than grades. Soon, I had students achieving more than they ever had. One student told me it was the first class she had ever gotten an A in, and she finally believed she was smart enough to achieve.
When the school principal sat in my class in the Fall, he told me it was the best hour of teaching he'd ever seen.
By March, I was told I would not be rehired.
What happened?
I will never fully know, but consider the following -
1) Discipline was never easy for me. It was a struggle. But the Principal reviewed me a third time and said my discipline was much improved. Even so, they had no intention of reversing their decision.
2) In one of my efforts to improve discipline, I tried to get under the control of a student whose parent was on the School Board. Look, my father was my School Principal at Bridgeport. The idea of favoritism stuck in my craw. Suffice to say, even though I thought I got the student under control, he must have reached out to his father. It wasn't until later that I found out that the student had gotten other teachers fired who dared to challenge him.
3) During the Spring of that year, the teachers of Cass City went on strike. One of the issues was hiring first-year teachers and then firing them before they got tenure in order to keep wages low.
The bottom line was that I felt defeated and scummy. My teaching career was over before it really began.
And that's the beginning of how I wound up in Georgia.
