II. Explain or comment on these statements.

1. Better say to "motivate and distribute" books. 2. Their background consists of the simplest comics and thrillers. 3. There are a few who work their magic in class. 4. Those who can, do; those who can't, teach. 5. The frightening thing is their unquestioning acceptance of whatever is taught to them by anyone in front of the room. 6. Yet, with all my eagerness to teach, teaching is the one thing Calvin Coolidge makes ail but impossible. 7. "Those who educate children well ate more to be honoured than parents, for these only gave life, those the art of living well". (Aristotle) 8. Call on the non-volunteeis too. 9. A teacher is frequently the only adult in the pupil's environment who treats them with respect. 10. Don't feed them, elicit from them.

Part three

8. You're the Teacher

November 12

Dear Ellen,

Just got home from open school session ‒ and I must talk to someone!

It was a fiasco, though I did everything I was told to do. I see 243 kids daily: 200 in English and 43 in homeroom ‒ but only a few parents showed up; a few wrote cards; and the rest ignored the whole thing. I don't know why they hold Open School so soon after the beginning of the term, before we've had time to get to know all our students.

One father came, in work overalls, hands patiently clasped on the desk, out of some dim memory of his own school days.

The mothers sat clutching their pocketbooks, waiting to plead, appease, complain or hear a kind word. A few were hostile, they had come to avenge themselves on their own teachers of long ago, or demand special privileges, or ask the teacher to do the job they had failed to do.

And I ‒ who was I to tell these grown-ups anything about their children? What did I know? A few cliches from the mimeographed1 directives: "Works to capacity, doesn't work to capacity, fine boy, fine girl". A few euphemisms: "Seems to enjoy school" (the guffawer); "Is quite active" (the window-smasher)...

Still I learned a few things. I learned that the reason a student failed to bring his father's signature is that the father is in jail; that the Federal Lunch the kids are always griping about is often the only meal they have; that the boy who falls asleep in class works all night in a garage in order to buy a sports car; that the girl who had neglected to do her homework had no place to do it in.

I have a long way to go.

Love Syl

P.S. Did you know that due to the "high mobility" of families unable to pay rent, some schools have a turnover of 100% between September and June? Did you know that at the College Entrance Examinations Board's Commission of English it was found that a third of high school English teachers were unfit to teach their subject?

9. Up the Down Staircase

(Sylvia Barrett is tired and disappointed. She thinks she is a failure as a schoolteacher. She comes across an advertisement by Willowdale College for an English literature teacher and applies for the job. Soon Sylvia receives a letter saying she will be taken on; she is supposed to teach English literature and run a seminar in Chaucer. Sylvia hands in her resignation. Just on the eve of the holidays she fractures her foot ‒ she is knocked down by an unhinged door at school. Sylvia is taken to hospital. Now she has time to do a great deal of thinking.)

Dear Ellen, ,

I'm writing this from the hospital, where I am laid up with a fractured foot; nothing serious, but a nuisance, since I'll be here during "the busiest time of the term": the holidays!

My foot will be in a cast for a few weeks, but I'll be well in time for the new term at Willowdale.

I keep on thinking about my pupils. I am worrying about Ferone ‒ where is he and what is to become of him? I keep remembering what he said to me: "What makes you think you're so special? Just because you're a teacher?" What he was really saying was: "You are so special. You are my teacher, then teach me, help me. Hey, teach, I'm lost ‒ which way do I go? I'm tired of going up the down staircase". So am I.

I wanted to make a permanent difference to at least one child. "A teacher I'll never forget"? Yes. I wanted to share my enthusiasm with them; I wanted them to respond. To love me? Yes. I wanted to mould minds, shape souls, guide my pupils through English and beyond. To be a lady-God? That's close. I wanted to fight the unequal battle against all that stands in the way of teaching. Yet, I am about to quit.

.Am I but another dropout?

I think of new kids that will come and go. The same kids, but with different names, making the same mistakes in the same way. I think how little anyone can do, even with love, especially with love.

I will have time, as I lie here, alone, to do a lot more thinking. They've just brought me a stack of mail.

Love, Syl

P.S What statistics can I give you? Did you know that the median age for female accidents in the schools is 48.2?