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Maybe Paulie's mother was right. On my second Open School Day she told me I was a cheat. She was proud of her Paulie, future electrician, nice kid who planned to start his own business one day. He wanted to marry a nice girl, have a family, and stay out of trouble.
I was angry with her. But, at the back of my head a little voice filled me with doubt. Maybe I was a cheat. Maybe I wasn't a good teacher.
"I ask my kid about his day in school, and he tells me about stories of Ireland and you coming to New York. Stories, stories, stories. You know what you are? A cheat. And I'm saying that kindly, trying to help."
I wanted to be a good teacher. I wanted to fill my students’ heads with spelling and vocabulary. I wanted to help them have a better file, but I didn’t know how.
The mother said she was Irish, married to an Italian, and could see all my secrets. She knew my game. When I told her I agreed with her she said,”Ooh, you agree with me? You actually know you’re cheat?”
“I’m just trying to do my best. They ask me questions about my life and I answer them. They don’t listen when I try to teach English. They look out the window. They sleep. They eat sandwiches. They want the bathroom.”
“Why don’t you teach them what they need to learn―spelling and big words? What will my son, Paulie, do when he goes out into the big world and he can’t use big words?”
I told Paulie’s mother that I hoped to be a good teacher one day, confident in the classroom. But until then, I was going to continue trying. I don’t know why, but that made her emotional. She started crying and looked in her handbag for a handkerchief. I offered her mine, but she shook her head and asked,”Who does your washing? That’s the saddest-looking gray handkerchief I’ve ever seen in my life. Your shoes, too. I’ve never seen such sad shoes. No woman would ever let you buy shoes like them. It’s easy to see you’ve never been married.”
She brushed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Do you think my Paulie can spell handkerchief?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not on the list.”
“Do you see what I mean? You people have no idea. You don’t have handkerchief on the list, but he’ll need handkerchiefs all his life. Every day Paulie comes home telling us these stories and we don’t need to hear them. We’ve got our own troubles. It’s easy to see that you’re new in this country . . .”
“No, I’m not new this country. I was born in here. I was in the army here. I worked on the docks. I graduated from New York University.”
“See?” She said,” That’s what I mean. I ask you a simple question and you give me the story of your life. Be careful, Mr.McCourd. These kids don’t need to know the life story of every teacher in the school. Just give them spelling and words. Mr.McCourd and the parents of this school will thank you forever. Forget the storytelling. If we want stories, we’ve got a TV Guide as home.”
よろしくお願いします。
お礼
なるほど。 ありがとうございます。