Sunday, December 19, 2004
The dollar bill is trying to tell me something...
I never got around to seeing the movie National Treasure, in spite of the disruption caused along my old commute due to filming. Despite my love of conspiracy theories, references to Freemasonry, and Nicholas Cage's unique ability to appear deeply excited about anything, I saw very little reason to shill out $6.50 for a matinee just to learn that the Declaration of Independence had a message smeared on its back in lemon juice.
And yet the movie regained some relevance the other day when, tired and depressed I got into a conversation with my old friend the Dean of Students. As the school's Chief Disciplinarian, he's seen everything and I thought he could give me some insight or inspiration with which to approach my students' generally miserable behavior. I explained my problem, told him I didn't know why it was wroth coming in when they transfer my smart kids into different classes and leave only the fools behind.
"You ever look at a dollar bill, Mr. _______?" he asked me after a moment.
"You mean, the one dollar bill?" I said with some hesitation.
"Yeah, the one dollar bill. Do you know what's written on the back?"
I had to think for a second, but my colleague soon explained. And what he said made so much sense, I've basically adopted it as my new educational mantra. In point of fact, I feel it could be the de facto mantra of every teacher in the urban district where I work, and perhaps even those in surrounding suburbs. Because despite the headaches and frustrations, perhaps there is one. Just one student out of the masses of squirming, twitching, profane jerks who populate my classroom who will get something from me. And that might make it all worth while.
Out of the many, one.
E. Pluribus. Unum.
I never got around to seeing the movie National Treasure, in spite of the disruption caused along my old commute due to filming. Despite my love of conspiracy theories, references to Freemasonry, and Nicholas Cage's unique ability to appear deeply excited about anything, I saw very little reason to shill out $6.50 for a matinee just to learn that the Declaration of Independence had a message smeared on its back in lemon juice.
And yet the movie regained some relevance the other day when, tired and depressed I got into a conversation with my old friend the Dean of Students. As the school's Chief Disciplinarian, he's seen everything and I thought he could give me some insight or inspiration with which to approach my students' generally miserable behavior. I explained my problem, told him I didn't know why it was wroth coming in when they transfer my smart kids into different classes and leave only the fools behind.
"You ever look at a dollar bill, Mr. _______?" he asked me after a moment.
"You mean, the one dollar bill?" I said with some hesitation.
"Yeah, the one dollar bill. Do you know what's written on the back?"
I had to think for a second, but my colleague soon explained. And what he said made so much sense, I've basically adopted it as my new educational mantra. In point of fact, I feel it could be the de facto mantra of every teacher in the urban district where I work, and perhaps even those in surrounding suburbs. Because despite the headaches and frustrations, perhaps there is one. Just one student out of the masses of squirming, twitching, profane jerks who populate my classroom who will get something from me. And that might make it all worth while.
Out of the many, one.
E. Pluribus. Unum.
