Why Teaching is such a GREAT job.

AKA: PPTA/teachers get back to school and do your job. Fight your battle through actually creating success.

This is the third piece from the memoir/novel I have written. These all actually happened.

Some of those I have “Taught”

The saying “Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life” has been attributed to Mark Twain.

I found such a role in teaching and coaching young people. I consider that I have never worked a day in my life, except with my dad, all those years back, stacking shelves. That doesn’t mean that there has not been challenges. For someone who was undiagnosed socially phobic until my late forties it meant a clutched stomach, cold sweats and holding back tears more often that I would care to remember – both in staff rooms, classrooms, and coaching (let alone public events). When I finally thought to discuss this with someone who had studied such things, he asked questions like: Why do you think that you like going fishing, running, cycling, etc., on your own? How long do your normally last in a conference or a room full of people? What is your first, if unspoken, response when asked to a function or to speak? How often do you turn up early to meet and greets? Do you dance at parties or wash the dishes? Why don’t you have a phone? Do you sometimes just spontaneously yell out “biscuits and gravy”?

The truth is, though, that everyone has a struggle. It is good to know what it is so that you can plan to minimize the effects and think through of some of the limitations. You also need a purpose to fight it. For me, seeing young people thrive is the trick that works. It is also true that I have learned a lot more from children and young people than they have from me – even based on the sheer volume of experience. There have been thousands of them and only one of me.

Often the recalled experiences are funny but sometimes tragic and deeply sad.

A young man who is an All Black as I write turned up late to one of our schools one day. The Principal asked, “You are twenty minutes late … can you explain that?”

“Oh … Sir … I was going to be on time and was trying really hard …”

“And …”

“I don’t want to say it Sir.”

“I need to know why you are so late.”

“But Sir, I really don’t want to say it.”

“As I said – I need to know why you are so late.”

“The homos in the park chased me Sir.”

“Pardon? What? The homos in the park?”

“Yes sir. The homos in the park!”

“The homos in the park?”

“Yes sir. Yes sir. They are frightening and they were after me Sir.”

“The homos in the park”?

“Yes Sir. Those guys who have nowhere to live!”

“Okay. You are excused but it might be better to call them “homeless people” to avoid confusion.

 

Then there was a great young man who was on the “spectrum”. He was with us for four years and did so well then and since. There were many memorable occasions with him but the one that sticks (don’t excuse the pun) is when I saw him eating a glue pen.

“Hey Henry. Stop eating that glue-stick. You will make yourself sick!”

“Nope. I have read the label and it says ‘non-toxic’.”

“Yeah … but if you eat too much it will go through your system and stick your bum cheeks together and you will be constipated for life.”

“No sir. All I need to do is, each time I sit down, I will grab those butt cheeks and pull them apart.”

“You win. If you are hungry eat the glue stick. I have a headache.”

After sitting with staff in a large school and one saying … “there are some kids that just don’t want to learn”.

“Okay” … I said … “give me the name of the worst child in this school”.

They conferred and said … “It is Zev.”

“I will be back in ten minutes.”

I wandered about until I found the said child. “Zev … I am told that you are struggling with learning and behaviour. Tell me; would you rather be doing well or doing badly and always in trouble?”

A long pause, and looking at our feet and scuffing, then both of us were crying.

“I want to do well sir.”

A staff member and I are sitting in a room having lunch and a young student is preparing for PE. He has his sports shoes on the floor and for five minutes we observe him repeatedly stamping on his shoes in the hope that, somehow, they will latch themselves onto his feet and lace themselves up. We can no longer just observe, and mirth overcomes us.

The ten-year-old glares, picks up a shoe, thrusts it in my direction, and states: “Do you want me to come in there after you boy?”

We had a wonderful child, Luke, who was well along the autism spectrum, but we believed that we saw progress. One day he turns up with a self-designed lego-submarine with incredible working, spring loaded, torpedo tubes. So very cool.

He sits in my class month-on-month, doing his very best but, I am deeply unsure as to his engagement and awareness. Suddenly, one day, a boy student says to the girl sitting next to him: “I really like you.”

“Ewwww”, she replies.

Luke looks up at me, winks, and then quietly says; “Awkward.”

The favourite rugby player I ever coached was a man called Eliota Fuimaono-Sapolu. History will note that he was one of the change agents for the IRB Rugby World Cup draw that created fairness for “second-tier” nations. He was a brilliant rugby player – powerful, skillful, intelligent. And he stands up for what he holds dear:

“I played in England for seven years. I played in Japan for three years. I played in Bath for about three years and played for Gloucester for three and a half years.” said Fuimaono-Sapolu. “In terms of Gloucester I did really well there. I won all the awards; I won players’ player, player of the year, try of the year, season ticket holder player of the year, fan player of the year, club player of the year. I won everything, so I thought at my next contract I can ask for something pretty decent. And I was told straight, there’s no way I could be paid more than a Scottish player. So, learning all those things, having those experiences, about what really goes on in rugby, and knowing that you are never what you achieve. I will always be the stereotype in their mind that I’m not worthy of a Six Nations (level) contract or a Tier 1 contract regardless of how I played.”

The thing was he, and the others in the team I coached those years, many of them internationals, spent most of their time laughing while challenging the world. No more so that when they burned me time and again playing touch – and laughed harder when I sulked and walked away. I would like to say that I was just playing with them to build their confidence/egos, but they just know that they were better by far.

Matty was maybe the physically laziest student I even taught – and it nearly killed him. If any exertion was required, he was nowhere to be seen. I caught him one day walking up the drive towards his mum and then breaking into a limp. “What are you doing?” I respectfully asked.

“If she thinks that I have had a bad day she will get me maccas and an ice cream.”

The crisis happened when we went on a school kayaking trip and – 800metres from shore – he decided he had enough and was exhausted. “I cannot tow you in Matty.”

“Oh well. I think I am going to have a seizure then.”

“What? No one does that, they just happen. You don’t know when.”

Next think he is over and in the water having a grand-mal seizure. I had been thirty seconds away for simply paddling in and letting him sort himself out. Instead, I ended up in the water – still worrying about Jaws – towing this child, who was way bigger than me, through the water and praying for all to settle. We got within shouting distance of the beach and were rescued. I have no idea what happened to the abandoned kayaks.

He had cried wolf so many times that I had nearly left him out there. What a regret and tragedy that would have been. I hung with him in the hospital and he came through.

“Hey Mr Poole.”

“Yes Tane.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just popping out for a minute.”

“Are you going to drop the kids off at the pool?”

One of the hardest situations that confronts a teacher in the classroom is when a student has a bad stutter. I have taught three such people. One who went on the be a very good All Black and then moved into another quality profession. The first one I encountered, though, happened to be on my very first day teaching. The class list I was given featured a first initial and a last name. Clearly wanting to make a good impression and show that I cared I went around the class and asked for their first name to match the initial. One boy looked particularly nervous when I asked him, and with imploring eyes, he gently shook his head. However, my kindness was not going to be discouraged.

“Hello Mr Anuj – please can I have your first name.”

Silence.

I was going to say; “Are you deaf?” but just in time remembered that I had done that in one of my teaching practices when someone did not appear to be paying attention and then was told, in no uncertain terms, by the rest of the class that … yes … he was deaf.

Young Mr Anuj, however, was clearly paying attention. He was obviously shy. I had no alternative but to ask again.

“Mr Anuj – what is your first name.”

He took a huge breath and began a process that, for those that have witnessed the like, causes anxiety and instant sweating for the whole group.

“N, N, N, …. N, N, N, N, …. (another breath, the rest of the class is not breathing at all) … N, N, N, N, N …. (students now glaring at me like I am an serial killer of children, puppies and kittens) … N, N, N, N, … (beads of sweat forming on my own forehead) … N, N, N, N, ……..  NiTISH!”

It was my first day, but it still terrifies me now that I nearly said: “How many Ns was that?” He had a great year – despite the rocky start.

From two of my senior classes I had students who topped the nation in their final exam. For half a second you take credit but then quickly remember that hundreds you have taught didn’t. So, what was the lesson? They showed up to every class. They asked questions whenever something was not explained well enough or understood. They soaked-up methodology with how to study and sit exams. They were generous with their time for their classmates and lead others to great results through example. They were funny and personable, are friends to this day, and are engaged in stunning careers.

I took a rugby team to Hong Kong and Japan. I was so impressed with their behaviour throughout and, clearly, I had forgotten the lengths I would go to as a young person to disguise bad behaviour. Seeing two of them a few years later and sitting down to a meal I commented on their outstanding behaviour on that trip. They both started laughing. “Poolsey … we had you worked out from the first minute. Where were we sitting on the plane to Hong Kong?”

“No idea.”

“In the two seats directly behind you.”

“Why?”

“Because we knew the best place to hide was right behind your back. When we got on the plane we changed out of uniform. We sat behind you and the flight attendants brought beersies to us on the whole flight.”

I changed the subject.

Tragedy for a student or their family is a constant source of worry for a teacher or Principal. You dread the phone calls or messages that let you know of a severe illness or a death. Once a career is too many but anyone in the profession for long inevitably has had to care for people through more occasions than that. It is amazing how young people can respond. An incredibly hard working, deeply cheeky (as in – always knew how to get her way), very caring young student named Alex developed a severe cancer prior to her 15^th birthday.

When I took some students to see Alex in hospital, she had been a series of chemo treatments. I was struck dumb and very unsure of myself as I observed the effects. Her rich, Samoan, skin had turned pale, her body thinned and her hair missing. We had quietly entered. She looked up and her smile simply lit the room. I was still next to useless, but the children were natural, joyous, and so positive. I don’t use the word much – but they were “awesome.”

Cancer at any age and of any type is appalling. For one so young and so full of life it defeats explanation. Hope comes and goes, and it is very hard to believe that they won’t be healed. Alex passed away. I still cry as I write it. Her mother and brother taught us so many lessons in how to grieve and remember. In a very challenging time, our young students rose to the occasion and even at the funeral, with wisdom and respect, celebrated their dear friend’s life. Again, they were awesome!

Nigel was an amazing student of mine with Tourette’s. Now that also is tough and at times his ticks caused him great distress. However, he also laughed a lot and charged into anything that was going. On one school camp, on a back field, I taught some of the kids how to drive a manual. Nigel was the best and just loved the accolades. His ticks were normally benign but one day I had a parents’ meeting after school and another boy charged into my office just as the meeting was starting.

Without a filter he yelled out: “Nigel called me a Mother F&^*%#@.”

“What?” I stammered.

“Nigel called me a Mother F&^*%#@.”

“I heard you the first time. You didn’t need to repeat it.”

“You said, ‘What’?”

“Yes.”

“So, I said – Nigel called me a Mother F&^*%#@!”

The parent’s meeting at this stage was somewhat in disarray.

“My ‘what’? was rhetorical.”

“I don’t even know what that means. What are you going to do about Nigel calling me a Mother F&^*%#@.”?

“Stop saying that!”

“What? Mother F&^*%#@.”

“Yes! Don’t say it again.”

“But that is what Nigel called me.”

“No he didn’t”.

“Yes, he did. He walked past me and said: “Mother F&^*%#@.”

“He wasn’t saying it to you.”

“I was the only one there.” (Goodness – had he seen De Niro in Taxi Driver?)

“Right. But you know how he sometimes blurts out funny things in class.”

“Yes.”

“Well that is what happened only this time it was sweary.”

“I am still telling my parents.”

“Okay. You do that but, can I suggest, for your own well-being, that you say “F’er” as opposed to “F&^*%#@.”

A well-known New Zealand personality is former MP Rodney Hide. To young people his political career was of far less interest than the time he was on “Dancing with the Stars.” As Associate Minister of Education Rodney visited one of our schools. While talking to me in my office one of the students – who was sweeping a path outside – looked through the window and noted his presence. Now this child had, what was then called, Asperger’s Syndrome. He operated in a very literal world. He put down his broom and thoughtfully walked towards the front door and I heard him making his way towards my office.

“You’re Rodney Hide.”

“Yes. That is right … I am.”

“You are a lot fatter than you look on television.”

Back out to sweeping.

When coaching a 1^st XV rugby team, I considered it a good plan to have a game recorded on video and asked two senior students to do the task. They set themselves up superbly on the roof above the changing rooms. It was a perfect vantage point. Such was the quality of these two young men that they decided to commentate as well. I don’t believe I ever watched past the first few minutes.

“Well – I have to say that Tauranga Boys’ has made a great start.”

“Yes. They are playing hard and fast.”

“You are right. Hard and fast is exactly how they are playing it and I understand that is exactly how Mrs Poole likes it.”

I always tried to minimise conflict and or punishments but one day I had to ask a child to leave my class. I walked out with him, went to the resource room, and set him up with some tasks to do so he wasn’t just wasting his time. I noticed he was clutching his bag but thought nothing of it and didn’t want another argument. I left the resource room door open.

I went back to class.

About three minutes later I heard footsteps. They were followed by an authoritative, Deputy Principal, voice; “What are you doing out of class boy and what have you got in your hands.”

“It is a bag of marijuana sir and I have just found it sellotaped to the bottom of Mr Poole’s desk!”

Sometimes in rugby games players get things wrong. When they do, they may get sin binned and/or sent off. One such player in my side was HUGE but a gentle giant. A genuinely good person and a very good rugby player. One game turned somewhat violent and seeing his team mate on the ground getting a kicking Phillip intervened and a punch, backed by 130kg, was thrown. It was seen and he was sent off.

I accompanied him to the judiciary and was hopeful given his clean previous record. As I stood to testify, I noted to the people present that he had been defending a vulnerable teammate and that although, he did throw a punch, it was at best/worst (whichever way you looked at it) a glancing blow and no further punishment is needed.”

Suddenly Phillip intervened. “No way Poolsey – I smacked him really hard right in the head!”

In a meeting with 10 to14 year old students one day I asked them if anyone had done something really nice for their parents on the weekend. It was a theme we were running with at the time.

As hand went up.

“Yes Sally. What did you do?”

“On Saturday night – I let my mum go out “cougaring.”

“Right guys and girls – off to class.”

Walking down towards Newmarket one day I saw a past student walking towards me. He had thrived in so many ways through several challenges. It was the peak of the GFC, and his father was a cosmetic surgeon. “How are you doing Peter?” I asked. “And how is dad?”

“I am good. Dad is good. But business is tough. Can I interest you in a new rack?”

It is amazing how many kids do brilliantly despite their circumstances as opposed to because of them.

“Sometimes, I feel I gotta get away
Bells chime, I know I gotta get away
And I know if I don’t, I’ll go out of my mind
Better leave her behind with the kids, they’re alright
The kids are alright, the kids are alright, the kids are alright”

The Who

alwyn.poole@gmail.com