31 Days, 31 Memories - Day 24

[bironic]

While we're on the subject...

24. High School

I had P. again senior year for a Journalism elective. He had each of us write down what we cared about most; then, in true P. fashion, he chose people at random to confess what they'd put on paper. Of course, he called on me. I'd had a hard time choosing something, and really had wanted to put down "I care about people liking me." But that had sounded too childish (if only I'd had Lupin for moral support back then), and at the last moment I said "I care about people respecting me."

P. paused, then turned to a sullen-looking kid slouched at his desk on the other side of the room. I was slightly afraid of this boy, Joe, a year younger but tough and confident, blond, tattooed, a football player. (P. would later demonstrate his maddening sense of humor in pairing the two of us up for our unit on peer interviews and profile-writing.) Joe's answer had been a defiant "I care about my mother."

"Do you believe her?" P. asked.

"No," Joe replied.

To this day, I wonder whether they would have reacted differently if I'd said what I really meant.

Comments

[synn.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't have been able to tell the truth either -- if I could even figure out what it was. Undoubtably, I would have ended up saying something utterly untrue and cliche like "I care about my family."

I'm surprised P. did that -- or maybe not. He was so very strange, at times.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Funny thing about him, though, as you're all too aware, is that he could see right through you. And if he cared, he would call you on it.

[catilinarian.livejournal.com]

Did you ever feel like P. was hell-bent on testing you in the fire? Or was he like that with everyone?

I wouldn't have written down the truth, either, whatever the truth would have been for me at that age. I probably would have picked something that would blend in with everyone else's - like "I care about my family" or "I care about my friends" - or try to make myself appear terribly lofty. "I care about the poor people of the world," that kind of thing.

Memory: One day my freshman-year geometry teacher didn't show. Gradually, the entire class filtered out, except for me and the only friend I'd succeeded in making so far in high school - she remained loyally in her seat, working, and I quietly spread out my notebooks and started doing the same. As the period was ending, the target of my hopeless crush poked his beautiful blond head into the room. "You didn't really stay the whole time?"

"I'd just have gone to the library otherwise," I chirped in what I imagined was a friendly voice, and then spent the rest of the week kicking myself for saying that.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

And not only kicking yourself, but wondering why you'd stayed there when all you got was grief for it, and yet knowing you'd act the same way if the situation happened again?

Did you ever feel like P. was hell-bent on testing you in the fire? Or was he like that with everyone?

I'd like to think that's what he was trying. Certainly there were other moments that suggested the same thing, in and outside of class. He did zero in on most students' strengths and weaknesses and had an uncanny ability to know who to choose when it came time to argue a point or respond to another student's statement, but he clearly had his favorites. A lot of students hovered around him -- mostly girls, since he was 30ish and hip and wickedly sarcastic and very good-looking in a George Clooney kind of way -- and he was the fantastic sort of teacher who wasn't afraid to "get personal" with his classes, made up nicknames for people and shared his own opinions and decorated his classroom and so forth, but he and I and a small group of guys who worked on the newspaper he took over junior year had a fairly close and complicated relationship that continued years beyond high school and extended to my sister (who forged one in her own right and amused him twice as much I think). He made some incisive remarks over the years and wrote me a letter at graduation (he had one for each of the five of us on the newspaper staff) that I still keep under my bed.

Could go on about how I only found a comparable professor at college a month before I graduated, but this isn't really the place. You know who I mean though.

And P. would have torn apart anyone who tried "I care about the poor people of the world." He was our school's poster child (poster teacher?) for activism, organized annual charity events for students, decried the horrors of fois gras and Concord jets, and once devoted a class to debating Peter Singer's infamous article about the baby on the train tracks and how we are all selfish hypocrites.

[kabal42.livejournal.com]

I'd have loved a teacher like P. I came across one a lot like that in what equivalates my late high-school -> early college years - and my "mentor" from bording school was just like that. And this year I finally found a professor at the University who is just like that as well. It's been the best four months of higher education because of it.
But I can envy you P's dedication to testing you to the highest of your abilities. It's rough, but it's good.

Memory:
8th or 9th grade.
I said something recently about most of my teachers trying to hold me down, but I did have a choir/music teacher who didn't.
We put on a performance at some point, based on Norse mythology and I was the only one who dared do the opening scene - an interpretation of the tree of life, Yggdrasil, starting to grow. Sort of interpretive dance-like, just easier. I was a gymnast then, as well as heavily involved in all that music, so I was probably a good choice too. I don't know what it looked like, but I, who was shy, nervous and bullied, just did it, three shows in a row, and surprisingly enough no one ever teased me about it.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Which we would like to think means they were impressed but unwilling to admit it. It sounds beautiful.

my "mentor" from bording school was just like that. And this year I finally found a professor at the University who is just like that as well.

I'll bet yours are even better than P. in one way -- being gently kind and genuine. P.'s biggest drawback, and a few people reading this would back me up, is that he never came right out and solemnly tried to help you, it was mostly angle and teasing and borderline humiliation, at least in group settings. Slippery. Difficult to have a serious conversation with.

I can envy you P's dedication to testing you to the highest of your abilities. It's rough, but it's good.

You've reminded me of another instance: P. was best friends with the department chair, A., whom I had senior year for AP (university-prep) English. I didn't get along with A. nearly as well -- he was off-putting and we had different tastes in literature -- and they must have talked about it and decided I was afraid of him, because P. made me interview him for the newspaper to "break the ice."

[kabal42.livejournal.com]

It sounds beautiful, but I honestly don't know if it was *S* Can't have been completely horrible or I'm sure someone would have commented!
As you say, I'd like to think that.

That newspaper idea says a lot about how P. did things.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Although "made" might have been too strong a word -- I could have refused the assignment, with no repercussions other than his likely disappointment.

[kabal42.livejournal.com]

Do you think he would have asked you if he'd thought you'd refuse?

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Hm... Good question. I'm not sure. I don't know if a situation like that ever came up. He probably knew I'd do the interview after a little persuasion. The most difficult things he asked me to do were all within the classroom, so far as I recall at the moment, and I couldn't really refuse his requests there... Speaking theoretically, yes, I can see him asking me something he thought I wouldn't do, just to see my reaction and find out why I wouldn't want to.

[kabal42.livejournal.com]

*nods* That makes sense.

[pynelyf.livejournal.com]

All of your stories about P. have reminded me of my favorite English teacher. We still keep in touch, and in fact, I visit her every summer to have tea. Our friendship didn’t start out so cordially though.

http://pynelyf.livejournal.com/25996.html

My posts tend get longwinded and overly serious though...perhaps I should practice concision as a exercise in my next few memories

[bironic.livejournal.com]

(More comments in your LJ.)

T sounds hilarious in class and supportive in person. I wonder about the definition of mentor. Not to pick on you, but to ask what it takes to call someone one. I mean, I had a few teachers in high school (P. among the top three spots) and fewer in college who meant something to me beyond the classroom, but I never really considered them "mentors" -- that's always seemed like an extra-special term for someone who takes you under his/her wing, guides you, advises you, talks with you, teaches you, helps you, who leaves an indelible mark on your life, who (if you're old enough) has you over to his/her house and introduces the spouse, etc. etc. Who becomes something far beyond "teacher" but never quite "friend." Maybe I'm idealizing again.

[pynelyf.livejournal.com]

No no, indeed you've summed up "mentor" quite perfectly, and in fact, your definition reconfirmed my word choice. I visit my high school at the end of each semester to see T, go to her house over the summer (her husband and her dogs are wonderful), she tells me about her delinquient children--both a few years older than I. And all through that difficult period of trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life and being told by my parents that there are no such things as options, she listened and gave invaluable advice. What I love about talking with her is that I knew even when I was 16, she was listening to me as if I were a real person--not treating me like a child. And what I loved about her advice was that it was true and not idealized. As I grappled with living my own life and the life my parents wanted, she said "nothing comes without a price." I think if I had never met her, I might at this moment be an engineer or computer science major all the while indifferent to what I was doing.

[bironic.livejournal.com]

It does sound exactly like a mentor (how wonderful!).

My question, then, is either what is the 'minimum requirement' for someone to be called a mentor, or what's the term for someone who's more than a teacher and less than a mentor?

[musicisbelievng.livejournal.com]

nothing breaks the ice like A. crashing into our bushes last year. hm...

[bironic.livejournal.com]

Okay, true, but that was a few years after the interview, and technically he caused the other guy's car to crash into the bushes. At least that's what the police report said.