As a textbook writer/editor, I had a rewarding experience last night when my daughter was studying in my room, reading her US history book (not one that I worked on, but like many that I have worked on) and answering questions in her “packet.” At one point, she slammed the book down on the bed and said, “Listen to this. Why do people WRITE like this?” And she read from the book: “A tariff is a tax on imports.” She then said, “They may as well have written that a tariff is a gromusblot on fengerattle. The only word in that sentence that means anything to me is tariff, which sounds like sheriff so it always gets me thinking about the wild west.” Ah, nothing like feeling that your professional efforts are paying off.
And here’s another, from many years ago:
I was walking to the train on Wabash Avenue in downtown Chicago, when a former student from my basic writing class, a Filipina, came running up breathlessly to me, calling my (still maiden) name, “Miss Francis, Miss Francis! Didn’t you tell us that modifiers are supposed to dangle? My 101 teacher says they’re not!”
Anybody else have great moments in job satisfaction?
My current job has various little victories of figuring out the intracacies of Adobe software for design, no great epiphany, but moments of feeling satisfied as I watch my diminishing crop of hair fall out from the lead-up.
But I have been looking for the suitable thread to throw this one out, so excuse the momentary hijack for a humorous moment at work.
I work in a retirement community on the newspaper, doing ads and setting copy, etc. There is a weekly ad that makes me guffaw and always reminds me of the wisecrackers here at the Forum, who will appreciate it.
The ad is for sufferer’s of Parkinsons Disease and is about an ongoing forum and activities. Entertainment is provided by a members’ musical group: “The Tremble Clefs.”
Carol, t must be satisfying to have an ex-student come up and say something positive about your efforts. Especially when so many kids treat teachers like dirt.
I was walking home from the local corner store the other day when a guy came up to me and said he had been in one of my classes. He greeted me fairly enthusiastically which I took to mean I hadn’t entirely turned him off the subject. In fact he said he majored in it. I asked if he was the guy who had the great 1936 Ford panel truck. He said he was the guy except it was a 1940 truck. “Of course, I was a hippie back in those days. I was stoned all the time.”
Quite a few years ago I was teaching a little Sunday School class of four-year-olds. I had a challenging lesson one day - about death. I went through the lesson, using the hand/glove explanation (the hand is the physical body, the glove is the spirit…take the glove off to explain death, etc.). I felt like I was truly getting through to them as they were extremely quiet, hanging on every word. It was such a good feeling, knowing they were really listening. You could have heard a pin drop. I wanted to bring out personal experiences, so I asked, “Have any of you had anybody you loved die?” One little boy instantly raised his hand and exclaimed enthusiastically, “Teacher, I found a quarter in the toilet!”
That reminds me of a story that bears no pertinence to the conversation.
When I took AP US History junior year, every day we would come in, and there would be an essay prompt on the board for which we were supposed to write a thesis. If you hadn’t done the reading, you were screwed. And then, after a few minutes, the teacher would call randomly on a few of us to read ours aloud. Nerve-wracking to say the least, but it prepared us a little for an AP test that was even more nerve-wracking.
Well, when the teacher was telling us how to write a good thesis, she told us that a good way to start is with the word, “Although,” so that we would have to acknowledge discepancies and/or exceptions in our argument. Wonderful technique that helped a lot of the class. One day, a particularly lazy member of the crowd had obviously not done the reading, had no idea what the prompt was about, and thus didn’t bother to write the thesis. When (of course) the teacher called on him to read, he picked up a blank sheet of paper, dramatically cleared his throat, and spoke in an authoritative voice:
“ALTHOUGH.”
It was both funny and very sad all at once. I don’t think he passed the AP exam.
I made a 4 out of 5, and am now enjoying six hours of college credit because of it!
My father used to go through the same scenario. It’s like handmade
whistles: sometimes it’s worth it not to go with a cheaper off-the-shelf
solution.
He made schedulers for school systems, so some bureaucrat would
always come along eventually and drop his contract in favor of a
cheaper solution, and a year later, they’d always come crawling back…
