Let’s take a pause in the story for me to tell you a little about myself, and to help you see why my childhood was not one that ordinarily would lead to a career in education. In fact, if you and I were friends in high school and I confided in you that I was planning to become a teacher, you (and I) would have doubled over in laughter.
We all have interesting and unique life stories and mine is not a sob story of “oohs” and “ahs”, but one that hopefully sheds light on what led to my unconventionality as an educator. Through all the challenges of childhood and adolescence, I am eternally grateful to have had a roof over my head, food on the table, and people that loved me. My basic needs were met, which is not the case in far too many households. With that said, I’m easily distracted--so much so that I was the only one of six children in my good Catholic family (mom-yes, dad-no) to not make it through at least eight years of Catholic School! Nope. I was in third grade when my parents mercifully rescued me from, in my eight-year old mind, the dungeons of Corpus Christi School in Mineola, NY. Corpus Christi was a good school for most kids, but not for ones who suffered from full-blown Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.
My problems were I couldn’t focus, keep from talking, or stop fidgeting—anywhere or anytime. Interrupting the teacher by asking questions (many unrelated to the lesson) made me basically an energy sink and classroom disruptor. My antics roused the class, which put me into a higher gear of entropy. I was lost. (My classroom teacher and principal would have had me on a Ritalin IV were it prescribed back in the ‘60s). Report card comments included: “Constantly disrupts class”, “Not working to potential”, “Could do better”, “Struggles to get along with others”, and so on. Mom never monitored my homework (which I didn’t do), but the comments section mattered. She tolerated the 70’s and occasional 80, but the negative behavioral comments were a major concern and disappointment.
Spending 5%-10% (no exaggeration) of each day sitting face to the wall in the front corner of the classroom, on a chair in the hall, or being sent to the principal’s office for more severe discipline took its toll. Over time, I learned to detest school: the rules, structure, rigidity, and the occasional cruel teacher who, too merrily, employed corporal punishment as he or she saw fit. I found lectures tedious, content irrelevant, and sitting in rows socially exiling. Whether smacked in the head by a frustrated teacher, having my hair pulled by an exasperated nun, or being teased by classmates for my misgivings, I was fast becoming a school-phobic kid by the time I entered secondary school. What I had going for me was a loving family, good friends, and a curious can-do intellect (I don’t know where the self-efficacy came from, but it was there).
Junior high started rough, but 8th grade ended on a positive note. I made the baseball team with my good friend Charlie and was handling my distractibility, restlessness, and impulsivity a little better than in grade school. I still was disruptive in class, but the trips to the principal’s office were markedly fewer than in elementary school. Unfortunately, this was the period when my parent’s marriage fell apart for many reasons, including dad’s refusal to go to church. (He ultimately confessed his atheism to mom, despite playing the pious Christian card 14 years earlier when he proposed marriage to mom in a church. All’s fair in love and war. Chuckle.). Mom asked me and my siblings to pray for dad’s soul, which we faithfully did. Divorce is painful. Lost trust, hurt, and seemingly endless yelling and tears led to a sadness which enveloped our household and lingered years after the split. The impacts on me and my five younger siblings were hard and numbing, though the pain did coalesce our sibling love and commitment to one another, fostering resiliency.
With the divorce, my world came crashing down. The void it created became filled with some pretty nasty vices: horseracing, beer, and pot. By 10th grade, I learned how easy it was to cut classes and be truant with minimal consequences. Since mom was working while trying to raise six children (God bless her), the school’s efforts to verify I was “out sick” were for naught. With answering machine technology years away, no school communications were making it to the household. When I did return to school after each two- or three-day hiatus, I was brought to the principal’s office for an explanation and detention sentencing. After a few months and multiple detentions, the school gave up on me and stopped trying to reach mom. I was truly free and also frighteningly close to dropping out of high school.
My final two years at Mineola High School were more like a part-time gig. I worked daily as a dishwasher at a local restaurant (you need money to feed your vices), allowing me to leave school at 11:30AM. I also managed to miss 100 days my senior year. I learned to study ratios and proportions at either Aqueduct or Belmont racetracks, and smoked pot and listened to Elton John, Led Zeppelin, Neil Young, and other rockers with my friends. Evenings were often spent gambling at Roosevelt Raceway or drinking beer in the schoolyard. Not surprisingly, my coursework suffered. I flunked out of trigonometry, failed chemistry, was put in remedial English class, and finished near the bottom of my high school graduating class (in the good company of my core group of friends).
Remarkably, I did graduate, but only after running 50 laps around the school track to make up for the 50 missed gym classes my senior year. When I had my obligatory senior year meeting with the guidance counselor to discuss my career aspirations, I told him I wanted to get a Master’s degree in Marine Biology. He looked at my file, laughed, and suggested I get a job or enlist in the Navy if I wanted to work on the oceans. “You are not ready for college,” were his final words. Somehow, someway I did get in college. My C- average coupled with modest SAT scores met the admission requirements of Maryville College, a small college in rural Tennessee that was struggling with low enrollments. I lucked out and had a chance to realize my dream of being a marine biologist. More to follow.
Lessons learned:
“Through adversity comes strength”, and “where there’s a will, there’s a way” are two of my favorite sayings--byproducts of my experiences growing up in Mineola, NY. I wanted to work on the oceans, and had just enough things going my way to actually realize that dream—in spite of the challenges and naysayers. What I learned from my early years was the importance of empathy and compassion for students. I saw my younger self in the most at-risk students, to whom I was especially understanding and tolerant.
Good teachers recognize that children struggle for many reasons in school, and that it is the teacher’s role to empathize and guide them through their problems by being flexible, accessible and caring. They understand that students don’t come to school to make their day miserable, but are doing the best they can given their life circumstances. After all, students’ brains are unfinished three-pound organs, still highly plastic, still actively pruning, and continuously being shaped by their environment.
Besides my empathy and compassion, I had a contagious optimism for all students to be their best selves. I believed if I could succeed given my childhood challenges, so could they! The greatest reward for me as a teacher was the capacity to make a difference in a child’s life. I’m not being hokey here, but my favorite days of the week became Fridays (we all need a break after a good week’s work) and Mondays (teaching children CAN do that to people) helping students realize their dreams.
Research:
1-ADHD Symptoms from NHS Site (https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/attention-deficit-hyperactivity-disorder-adhd/symptoms/)
Inattentiveness (difficulty concentrating and focusing)
The main signs of inattentiveness are:
having a short attention span and being easily distracted
making careless mistakes – for example, in schoolwork
appearing forgetful or losing things
being unable to stick to tasks that are tedious or time-consuming
appearing to be unable to listen to or carry out instructions
constantly changing activity or task
having difficulty organising tasks
Hyperactivity and impulsiveness
The main signs of hyperactivity and impulsiveness are:
being unable to sit still, especially in calm or quiet surroundings
constantly fidgeting
being unable to concentrate on tasks
excessive physical movement
excessive talking
being unable to wait their turn
acting without thinking
interrupting conversations
little or no sense of danger
These symptoms can cause significant problems in a child's life, such as underachievement at school, poor social interaction with other children and adults, and problems with discipline.
2-The Individuals with Disabilities Act was a historic 1970s governmental action that protected students with disabilities, allowing them to receive the appropriate education and support necessary to succeed. Here is a link to Individuals with disabilities act: https://sites.ed.gov/idea/IDEA-History
3-Below is a literature review on 1K-12 teaching and empathy.
Berkovich. (2020). Conceptualisations of empathy in K-12 teaching: a review of empirical research. Educational Review (Birmingham), 72(5), 547–566. https://doi.org/10.1080/00131911.2018.1530196
Failed Chemistry! Fetch me my fainting couch! :) Kidding aside (as far aside as I ever put it at least), it’s becoming a trend, but this is yet another entry of yours that has shocked me! ADHD and a divorce? No homework? Errant rebellion in high school? Sounds pretty darned familiar to...well...me! Ha! Love the family photo, “Doc!”
One P.S.: That picture is hilarious!