Scrapbook/Memory Pages
The principal I’ve worked with for the past two years is leaving Kansas in two weeks to return to Pennsylvania. In the typical ritual of marking transitions, people are putting together a scrapbook/memory book for him to take with him. I applaud the effort, in principle at least, but I’m not doing so well with getting my page done. As is usually also the case with bulletin boards, I have ideas galore, but most of them are too complicated to actually execute without an inordinate amount of time investment. The biggest part of the job is shortening the parade of ideas and then minimizing the peripherals until I have something manageable left. And then I agonize about whether what I have left is really significant, or just sentimental and/or silly, or too stripped down to be recognizable as a great idea. Personal inadequacies and doubts aside, I think I will plunge in and use this blog to say what I won’t get to convey on the 8 x 8 scrapbook page.
Andrew Schmucker came to our school at a bad time. Two capable staff men had just left, and he, as principal, and I, as a part time teacher, were expected to carry most of the load that had been spread among three staff persons earlier. Some of the circumstances surrounding the staff turnover were not ideal, and the school population felt a little shell shocked and wary. Enter Mr. S. Right away it was clear to everyone that we were going to have a good time. And we did.
Mr. S. played hard on the basketball court and the softball field. He told jokes and embarrassing-moments stories that high schoolers can really relate to. He gamely tried new and risky ideas to make life more pleasant for students at school–some of them ideas I had campaigned for unsuccessfully in the past. Although he didn’t enjoy it much, he plugged away at tending to the administrative details that came with his job. In the process he streamlined some procedures quite a lot, making life easier for those who carry on. In general, he looked for ways to make things work without teachers having to micro-manage. At the end of the day he went home without obsessing over what remained undone.
The boys and he had a wonderful camp out early in the first year, followed later by a Saturday rabbit hunt, and then a meal for everyone at the teacher’s house. Mr. S. really loved the students and it showed.
He read aloud stories by Patrick McManus (occasionally edited on the fly), and stories about Archibald Brewster and friends. All this was done with great aplomb and uninhibited drama. It was ROFL in action.
When his little girls occasionally showed up at school he hugged and kissed them soundly and unabashedly. He and his wife welcomed a third daughter into their family two days before the end of school last year. Family responsibilities and loyalties loomed large in Mr. S.’s life–a good role model for the young men he mentored at school.
Mr. S. was a true soul mate of mine in the way he exulted in nature. Neither of us could keep our eyes off the sky when the weather was interesting, and he was often more abreast of the weather forecast than I was–something that had never happened with any teacher colleagues of mine in the past. His time in the wild involves a weapon or fishing pole more frequently than my time outdoors does, but even then, he shows proper respect for the provision of nature by dressing and eating what he harvests. He says that during his poor-student days their family’s meat was almost exclusively deer meat which he shot and dressed himself.
Several months ago I pointed out to Andrew something the students were doing that we had agreed we shouldn’t allow. I wasn’t sure immediately what to do about it, but he had no such uncertainty. He called out some version of “Stop it right now and get back to your desks and be quiet.” Then he turned to me and said, “Sometimes you just have to be assertive, and sometimes it’ll look a lot like yelling.” I’m pondering the advice, but I’m also pretty sure that I can never do as well as he does at combining freewheeling spontenaity and firmness. Doing it all with underlying love and respect for the students makes it a winning combination.
Two years ago when I first learned that we would be getting a new principal I inexplicably “knew” it would be Andrew, almost from the beginning, even though I had no strings to pull to make it happen–or not. Several other possibilities were investigated first because not everyone knew what I did. In good time, even Andrew agreed that he would be our next principal and we all lived happily ever after.
When next year’s principal takes over the reins he will have a confident and optimistic school population to work with instead of a shell shocked, wary one. That is perhaps one of the best testimonies to Mr. S.’s effectiveness in his role as principal and teacher. In that way he is a role model for all of us who aspire to do well whatever we are called to do. I salute him for a job well done.
Andrew Schmucker came to our school at a bad time. Two capable staff men had just left, and he, as principal, and I, as a part time teacher, were expected to carry most of the load that had been spread among three staff persons earlier. Some of the circumstances surrounding the staff turnover were not ideal, and the school population felt a little shell shocked and wary. Enter Mr. S. Right away it was clear to everyone that we were going to have a good time. And we did.
Mr. S. played hard on the basketball court and the softball field. He told jokes and embarrassing-moments stories that high schoolers can really relate to. He gamely tried new and risky ideas to make life more pleasant for students at school–some of them ideas I had campaigned for unsuccessfully in the past. Although he didn’t enjoy it much, he plugged away at tending to the administrative details that came with his job. In the process he streamlined some procedures quite a lot, making life easier for those who carry on. In general, he looked for ways to make things work without teachers having to micro-manage. At the end of the day he went home without obsessing over what remained undone.
The boys and he had a wonderful camp out early in the first year, followed later by a Saturday rabbit hunt, and then a meal for everyone at the teacher’s house. Mr. S. really loved the students and it showed.
He read aloud stories by Patrick McManus (occasionally edited on the fly), and stories about Archibald Brewster and friends. All this was done with great aplomb and uninhibited drama. It was ROFL in action.
When his little girls occasionally showed up at school he hugged and kissed them soundly and unabashedly. He and his wife welcomed a third daughter into their family two days before the end of school last year. Family responsibilities and loyalties loomed large in Mr. S.’s life–a good role model for the young men he mentored at school.
Mr. S. was a true soul mate of mine in the way he exulted in nature. Neither of us could keep our eyes off the sky when the weather was interesting, and he was often more abreast of the weather forecast than I was–something that had never happened with any teacher colleagues of mine in the past. His time in the wild involves a weapon or fishing pole more frequently than my time outdoors does, but even then, he shows proper respect for the provision of nature by dressing and eating what he harvests. He says that during his poor-student days their family’s meat was almost exclusively deer meat which he shot and dressed himself.
Several months ago I pointed out to Andrew something the students were doing that we had agreed we shouldn’t allow. I wasn’t sure immediately what to do about it, but he had no such uncertainty. He called out some version of “Stop it right now and get back to your desks and be quiet.” Then he turned to me and said, “Sometimes you just have to be assertive, and sometimes it’ll look a lot like yelling.” I’m pondering the advice, but I’m also pretty sure that I can never do as well as he does at combining freewheeling spontenaity and firmness. Doing it all with underlying love and respect for the students makes it a winning combination.
Two years ago when I first learned that we would be getting a new principal I inexplicably “knew” it would be Andrew, almost from the beginning, even though I had no strings to pull to make it happen–or not. Several other possibilities were investigated first because not everyone knew what I did. In good time, even Andrew agreed that he would be our next principal and we all lived happily ever after.
When next year’s principal takes over the reins he will have a confident and optimistic school population to work with instead of a shell shocked, wary one. That is perhaps one of the best testimonies to Mr. S.’s effectiveness in his role as principal and teacher. In that way he is a role model for all of us who aspire to do well whatever we are called to do. I salute him for a job well done.
posted by Mrs. I at
7:38 PM
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