I Sat in the Waiting Room Shaking: A Memoir

I sat in the waiting room shaking. The principal wanted a meeting with me. I shook, sweat, and waited for the reprimand. I applied corporal punishment on one of my students. I squeezed his arm in anger. He pushed my buttons all too often. My classroom management was very poor. I happen to teach in one of the most challenging junior high schools in Suffolk County

I waited a long time stewing and imagining the worst. Finally “The principal will see you now.” His secretary said. I looked grim, I looked guilty, and I had been here before for the same offense. I had good reason to believe that my teaching job was at stake.

“What did he do.”? I stuttered, stammered, and choked as I told my side of the story. “He pushed the boy next to him off his chair. I walked over, took his arm and escorted him out of the room.”

The pause lasted at least ten minutes to my mind. “We’ve had dozens of reports about this kid. But none of the teachers laid a hand on him.” This is the second time I’ve met with you. Have there been other I don’t know about.” “Yes.” “I’m going to write a report of this meeting and send it to the superintendent.” It’s in his hands now”. “Let this be the last warning. if I hear from a parent or kid that you’ve even touched them, you’re going to face a board of inquiry for possible dismissal.”

I resolved to improve my classroom management. As a creative teacher, however, classroom management didn’t last long. Creative lessons got the kids attention, got them excited, but this opened the door for kids seeking attention any way they could get it. Creative teaching doesn’t fly in a middle and lower middle class district. I can’t help finding creative ways to keep the kids interested, excited about science. This is me.

The other teachers on my team are strict disciplinarians. Their classroom management was superb.  I found myself in a dilemma, strict, boring lessons or creative experiences that engaged the kids. I only knew one way to teach.

It happened again. The new principal liked my creative lessons but called me in every time I manhandled a kid. She swept it under the table admonishing me to get a grip on discipline. Middle school, low academic level, my string of incidences could not last forever. It was the last day before the Christmas vacation. I was on bus duty. A kid pulled off my Santa Claus beard. I pushed him into a fence. That was it. By February, I retired at age 55. With shame, i’d leave teaching but with intact creativity with which I could now blossom full bloom.

My up and down tenure as a science teacher for 32 years was due in part to my physical condition – bipolar disorder. This plus my drive to be creative were two qualities no school district administrator wants in a teacher. How did I survive? I got tenure. My principal respected my teaching style. She swept my behavior under the rug.

I reached a high level on the salary scale. The day I left my school building for the last time, I exited out of an emergency window on the first floor rather that the main entrance. I was embarrassed and in shame.  I brought the bipolar under control with medication. However, I have never been able, or willing to bring my creativity under check. Creativity defines me. During my tenure, I created many vibrant lessons that my students loved. I look back on three plus decades of my career and I had a family with wife and two daughters, built a fat social security pension and state pension, can honestly say, that although there are blemishes, I am still intact after being retired for 21 years.