Ruth Suckow was an early- to mid-twentieth century American writer. She is worth a Google search and a Wikipedia read. One of Ms. Suckow’s short stories, “A Start in Life,” was published in school literature texts during the latter half of the twentieth century.
“A Start in Life” recalls an episode of a poor country girl named Daisy who was “hired out” to work for a well-to-do family that lived a respectable distance from her home. This is both her first time away from home and her introduction to the world of work.
It is a somber story about how Daisy got off to a rough start in life. She was initially excited to leave home and begin a new grown-up adventure. Unfortunately, she learned quickly that the ideal of being grown up and the reality of the world of work are significantly different.
You see, at home Daisy was important to her momma and her siblings. She was loved and cared for.
As a hired worker to a family from a higher economic and social bracket, Daisy quickly learned she was only important for doing what she is told.
The story ends with a heartbroken Daisy all alone in her employer’s house picking up scraps of fabric from the floor while the family has gone for a ride in the car. She cries, but silently, as she has already learned after only a day or so in her new situation that there’s no one to hear her, and even if there were, they would not care.
I remember the young idealism with which I entered the teaching world. Like so many educators, I’d wanted to be a teacher most all my life. I played school religiously much longer than would have been thought reasonable by most. I knew this and kept it secret from all but my family and a very few close friends.
My mother, God rest her saintly soul, just left me to do my thing. She accepted me the way I was.
Other family members, however, suspected something was wrong with me for being so obsessed with playing school, and an acquaintance told me that I would never be able to stop. I told this acquaintance that the day I graduated from high school would be my last day of playing school — from then on I would concentrate on getting qualified to do it for real!
True to my word, I never played one day of school after my high school graduation. I never had the desire to do so again, and even if the desire had existed, I was too busy with college studies at Lincoln Memorial University to make the time.
My time at LMU only whetted my appetite to get out into the real world and teach. LMU was the perfect place for the perfect time in my life. It to this day remains the most accepting place I have ever known. No matter economic, ethnic, or other differences, everyone pretty much accepted everyone else for who they were. To this day, I never visit LMU that someone does not know me by name.
So I left LMU in the spring of 1987 with a Bachelor’s Degree in English and certification to teach English and history in grades 7-12. Now comes reality.
First of all, there was not one single job at Union County’s only high school, not even for a janitor. Thirty-three years ago state teacher licensing was not as stringent as now, so I was hired to teach third grade at Luttrell Elementary on a waiver. I recall having three years to obtain elementary certification, so I did so while concurrently working on my Master’s Degree in Curriculum and Supervision.
The same acquaintance who told me that I’d never be able to stop playing school told me when he heard I was going to Luttrell, “You won’t be able to teach there. That place is awful. They’ll probably throw erasers at you.” Thankfully, Luttrell was not that bad.
I entered the teaching world with several misconceptions. I assumed all teachers were on the same page and supported each other in concerted efforts to wipe illiteracy from the face of the earth.
I have been privileged to work for the past 33 years with some of the profession’s best educators. There has been that handful, however, who had their own best interests at heart.
I have seen teachers pick on other teachers, connive to get the best students in their classes, work behind the scenes to have their colleagues reassigned so their children could have the teacher of choice, and the list of pettiness could go on and on.
Thankfully, such people are definitely in the minority. I owe much of the success I had as a teacher to two wonderful ladies who took me under their wings.
The late Diane Jessee got me started and showed me the basics of how to manage an elementary reading program and maintain discipline. Deanie Carver helped me refine my teaching and improve my self-confidence.
I also assumed all school administrators supported their teachers so long as they were working hard to teach their students. I was once unexpectedly reassigned to a different grade. When I questioned the move in a faculty meeting, I was rudely told, “You don’t want to get into it now!” When we “got into it” in the principal’s office after the meeting, I was told that there had been parental concerns that my teaching methods were more “conducive” to an upper grade.
When I asked how many concerns there had been, I was told two or three. Since I had 25 students the previous year, I asked if that didn’t mean there were 22 or 23 sets of happy parents.
The reply forever changed my educational and life philosophy: “Either that or they didn’t say anything.” This was the crucial moment that I finally realized not all educators are on the same page.
I pushed the point further by asking my principal if he was trying to tell me I was incompetent. The reply shoved my new philosophy home.
“Look at it this way. I’m giving you a higher grade, which I think you can handle, but I’m going to be watching you.” I thought to myself, “You most certainly will.”
I made it a point to teach the entire year with my classroom door open. Occasionally the principal would come and stand in my open door, and I would stop and ask, “Do you need something?”
The usual reply, “No, I’m just looking at what a fine group of boys and girls you have.”
My usual reply, “Yes, they are wonderful, aren’t they?” I would just stare at him until he decided to move along. Then he would leave and close the door.
I would tell the student closest to the door, “You open that door. I want that man to hear every word I say.”
I could go on and on, but this article is long enough. How did the story end? The principal and I made peace after a fashion, and my teaching evaluations were always positive.
I was promoted to principal of Sharps Chapel Elementary, and my principal was promoted the same year to the Central Office. We both suffered demotions in later years—he retired, and we parted in peace. I stayed in the fight and was eventually promoted to the Central Office where I have stayed since 2004.
What can you learn from my experience? I always tried to do my best, but it is with sorrow that I look back on certain situations and realize that though I thought I was in the right I was terribly wrong. Hard to believe, but there are times I was mean when that was not my intention. I’ve learned everyone has shortcomings. That’s why we all need forgiveness.
I have discovered that life is a cycle — sometimes we are on top, other times we sink low. Thanks to God and our friends we rise again, every time we sink. Friends are so very important as we go through life. Good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people, because that is the nature of life on this earth — things happen to people often without rhyme or reason. (Consequently, “good” and “bad” are relative terms, meaning different things to different people.) Ultimately with God and right on our side, everything works out for the best, if not in this world, in eternity.
As the George Jones song written by Johnny Paycheck (a good Google search) said, “There’s nothing better once you’ve had the best.”
In so many ways I’ve had the very best educational career that anyone could have. And just maybe there’s a few more miles on the ride I’ll get to enjoy.
Until next time, I leave you with a thought from my email world:
I may have been in Continent,
but I don't remember what country I was in.
It's an age thing.
They tell me it is very wet and damp there.