by Norman W Wilson, PhD
Eons ago when I first began my forty year career as a teacher, I was teaching junior high school English and social studies. One day the principal assigned me the task of administering standardized tests. In those early days, we had one guidance counselor who also acted as the assistant principal. He would score them.
Okay, job done. A few weeks later, I was called to the office and told I had to meet with Sally's parents. (Sally was not her real name) I asked why. " We need to get their consent to place her in the 'special ed' class. She tested out as a moron and you have to explain that to her parents.”…
How do you tell someone their only child is a moron? It's such an ugly word to begin with. But in those days, that was the language used. How does one deny hope to another? By telling Sally's parents their daughter was a moron, I was telling them her life's achievements were limited, that their hopes for her were futile. I could not do that. The idea burned hot in my gut.
Besides doing the testing, once a month I was expected to ride the school bus at the end of the day. The rationale behind this was to give the teachers a sense of a child's home life, a sense of the child's environment. Secretly, I thought it was to control the kids on the busses.
One result of these bus rides was an invitation to dinner from one of my student's parents. This was a treat for me since I lived in rented a room in a local funeral home, and ate my breakfast and evening meal at the one and only hole-in-the wall diner. Otherwise I had a 30 miles drive to a restaurant.
The family was Polish and contained fourteen children; seven adult children, and seven still in public schools. The Golomki, sausages and array of other fresh vegetables were delicious and the homemade apple pie was to die for. My hosts were charming, and delightfully entertaining .
The following week the principal called me to his office. The president of the school board was there. She said she had heard I had been out to the Polish people's house. She strongly suggested I pick and choose my invitations more carefully. It wasn't seemly to be associating with "those kind of people."
It was then I made a significant decision, one among many as I journeyed down my career path. Telling me, I had to tell parents their child was a moron and then telling me with whom I could associate was just too much. I asked the principal if he had a sheet of paper I could have. He did. I wrote one sentence. "Effective immediately, I resign." Signed it, and walked out.
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