Kathy Hooks

Every teacher who sticks with teaching for more than the national average of 3 years has someone to thank. In fact, we generally have many people to thank. But each of us has someone who had been there, and done that before us, and who was willing to reach out and help a new teacher. Last week, the world lost one of those people, and I'd like to try and pay a tribute to her in my own mediocre way.

But before I pay my tribute, I'll send you to read her obituary.

Last Sunday, Kathy Hooks, a former co-worker, mentor, and friend passed away. She was a teacher and mentor to me for the three years I spent at River Forest High School in New Chicago, Indiana. River Forest, by the time I got there in 2002, was not a great place. The school, which had once teemed with student life, was a shell of its former self. The building was full of empty rooms, full of dusty memories of better days. The first year I taught there it was the poorest per capita school in the state. The last year I taught there, a student broke in and lit the place on fire. 3/4 of the students received free or reduced lunch. It stood alone, proud in the community, but sad. 

You see, River Forest had been built in the heady days of the early 1960's in Northwest Indiana, a place called "The Region". The Region is a land of proud hard workers, on the South Shore of Lake Michigan. It had been booming with post-war prosperity; three steel mills were operating nearly around the clock. As workers fled Chicago, many made their homes in the bedroom communities along the South Shore Rail Road. New Chicago boomed. There was a need for a high school, and RF was born.

But by 2002, all of the mills had closed. The commuters had moved to St. John and Munster. The area was on the verge of ghetto. The people were tough, and stubborn, and proud, but that wouldn't make the mills re-open. River Forest High School stood alone, strong as it's mascot (the Ingot) as something left from those boom days. 

Kathy was in many ways the soul of River Forest. She had taught there since nearly the school's opening. She had been there when the steel mills were still going strong. In fact, she taught the best man in my parents' wedding. Even as the mills closed and economic collapse set in, she stayed and she taught.  Even as the gangs encroached on the district boundaries, and chaos was knocking at the front door, she stood firm, believing that ALL kids; not just those in good neighborhoods, not just those who had parents who fought to get them in charter schools, not just those with money deserved a quality education.

She didn't just teach, either. Many people in a situation like that (when I met her she'd "only" been teaching at RF for 35 years) are mailing it in until they can get their pension check from the state. Not Kathy. She was still a sparkplug. She was still in the halls. She was still hocking cookies during passing period to support the students she coached in academic decathlon and National Honor Society. That was where she showed me how to make a difference in kids' lives.

Every afternoon after school, the diamonds in the rough met in her room to train for academic decathlon. Kids came to her from a myriad of terrible backgrounds. Sure, there were some from middle class families, but they were the exception, not the rule. RF was the smallest school competing in decathlon, and by far the poorest. She could have easily bred a culture of "happy to be here" and be glad we're competing. But that wasn't the way she was going to do things. If they were going to do it, they were going to do it well. She was unwilling to accept an attitude of poor us. I watched her, year after year, inspire students and push them beyond where they thought they could go. She showed them what hard work could do for them.  They were rewarded. My second year with them, the team was the smallest to qualify for the state competition. I have no memory of how we fared, but I treasure the team picture of us. The look on those kids' faces is priceless. They, the refuse of The Region, the poor, the forgotten and counted out had done something. Kathy's work and dedication were the reason why.

Sure, Kathy received a pile of awards. Hell, the list alone makes up 1/4 of her obituary. But there's a line just before the list of awards starts that speaks more about her than any of those awards ever could. It is this simple sentence:

"Kathy was a retired teacher from the River Forest School Corporation with 41 years of service at River Forest High School in New Chicago, Indiana"

That's the sentence that attempts to summarize a life dedicated to changing lives for the better.  She taught students at one of the most down-trodden places in the world for 41 years. She inspired staff for 41 years. She changed lives for 41 years. She gave 41 years, fully 40% of her entire life and 80% of her adult life to a place and an idea. The place was River Forest, and the idea was that one person could make a difference. The place will never be the same without Mrs. Hooks in the downstairs science lab, and I can only hope that the idea will never go away. I feel confident that with as many lives as she touched, it never will. 

Rest in peace, Kathy, you've earned it.

p.s. Please don't think that Kathy was the only person doing this kind of thing at River Forest. She wasn't. Kirk Whiting, Sandy Mihalik, Jack Burton, Molly Krodel, Gale Robertson and dozens of others are giving their best every day for the kids that society wants to ignore. RF, and the family there, would make for a great documentary. Alas, America doesn't have the heart to watch that story.

Summer Jobs, and their necessity

I'm coming to you tonight via the miracle of the Internet from beautiful Lakeshore, California. You may be wonder what I'm doing at basically the edge of the civilized world. The answer is one that many public school teachers in this country would give. It's my summer job.

I know that you think summer jobs are something for teenagers. You envision bad uniforms, misspelled nametags, hairnets, and minimum wage. However, in America, a surprising number of teachers take up summer employment to help pay the bills. I (and most teachers) get paid during the summer. However, that pay is generally low enough that teachers feel the need to find further employment.

I should be clear at this point. A lot of my co-workers do not take summer jobs. They relax with their families, work on advanced degrees. That disclaimer provided, I'm on to the meat of my argument.

I believe I was talking about the need of teachers to work summer jobs. We work mostly in fields that are different from what we teach. My high school US history teacher painted houses. I work in operations at a summer camp. A guy I used to work with was a raft guide every summer.

Why do we do this? Well, part of it is money. Last year, I made (before taxes) about $42,000. That's really not that much, especially if you own a house or have children (or both). It gets worse if your spouse teaches as well. I'm not trying to say that teachers are below the poverty line, but they are certainly paid less than many other professionals. (As an example, Taco Bell managers make more on average than teachers.) I've said it before, but I'm going to keep saying it: the way teachers are paid shows the real value that society puts on them.

But I think there's a second reason teachers work during the summer. They are hard workers by nature. Even those that don't find a second job are generally bettering themselves through education or travel. It goes against the nature of teachers to just sit around for 2 months. They're hard workers, and they aren't going to watch Jerry Springer and Law and Order reruns for 8 weeks. (and yes, FoxNews commentators, I'm looking at you).

I don't want you to think that I don't like my summer job. In fact, I love it. I would work it even if I didn't need the money. But the fact that I do need the money is a sad commentary on the value Americans put on the job that teachers do. 

We don't eulogize the living

Outside of some really interesting speech classes, the title of this post is true. We don't eulogize the living. I understand why we don't, but I think it's a shame nonetheless. You see, this is my last week at my current job, and the week when my wife, who's been living in Central California (which is a nice way to say "Fresno"), comes home to help me pack up the recently sold house. 

You may be wondering what those two things have in common, or what they have in common with eulogizing the living. You're right to wonder; on the surface they have nothing in common (with each other or with eulogies). In order to make the connections, let me explain.

My wife spent 5 years as a teacher here in Colorado Springs. She worked at a smallish charter school. I don't think I'm overstating when I call her legendary or titanic there. Her impact was so large, her opinion so valued, that her former principal called her and asked for advice solving a schedule problem in the fall. I have friends at church whose older kids had her, and they're still more than a little bitter that she left the year before their youngest would have been in her class.

I bring this up because the missus went to visit her former school today. She won't say so directly, but the response was overwhelming. Parents stopping her in the hall, telling her they had just been talking about her. The aforementioned principal calling her into the office to sit in on another scheduling meeting. Kids who never had her calling her name. In short, the school poured out its love for her onto her. 

I, on the other hand, did not go back to my former school, because it's not my former school until Sunday. However, I did receive high praise from my co-workers and former students. They presented me with a signed photograph of me leading an assembly. The messages they've scrawled all around it are enough to move a rusty old cynic like me to the verge of tears. They presented the framed picture to me at graduation practice, and (for me at least) it got pretty dusty in our unfinished auditorium. 

So how do these two stories relate to eulogies? (I have now smashed the previous record for use of the word "eulogy" in a crappily written education blog) Because if I wasn't leaving, and if my wife hadn't left, then these laurels would not have been presented to us. Not to brag (which of course is what I'm going to do), but most people would have said really nice things about us, because we're good at our jobs. However, societal norms would have prevented most of them from saying those things to us. It takes a person leaving for them to hear that people appreciated them.

This is obviously the proof of the old truism that "you never know what you've got 'til it's gone". We, as a society, don't praise those who are good at what they do often enough. We spend our time and energy trying to improve, instead of taking a moment to appreciate the things and people that we have in our lives that are already working.

I would encourage you to say a heart-felt thank you to someone in your life who does a nice job at what they do. Let your child's teacher now that you appreciate the work they've put in this year. Tell the janitor that you appreciate the job they do. Tell your pastor/rabbi/priest that you appreciate the way they go about their business. Leave them a note. Send them a card in the mail. Organize a card shower. 

But don't buy them things.

I know this seems counter intuitive. I know that you think that getting them something will show your appreciation. I promise you that they'll appreciate the gift card. They won't throw it away. But I'll promise you this as well: they'll treasure something personal that you took the time to do for them. I know this is true. I see teachers that post thank you cards from my Student Council kids on their walls. No one is printing out a thank you email. I know how I feel today with a gift that was genuine and personal from my co-workers. 

Sure, they could have gotten together and purchased a nice gift card so that the wife and I could go to a fancy dinner. We would have enjoyed it. But it would not have had the same impact as their personal notes did. Here's why: the gift card is corporate. It feels like an easy thing to do. The gifts I got, and the words of praise and genuine smiles my wife received actually feel like individuals appreciating us individually. 

So take some time. Think about that person in your life who makes a difference for you through their actions, and then do something to make them feel appreciated. Show through more than a routine "thanks, here's coffee on me" gesture that they are special to you. Take a moment to impact them on a personal level by showing that you appreciate them.

You'll feel good about it, and so will they. Little by little, we can make the world better. This is a really easy way to start. 

I'll even provide you with an example:

I want to say thank you to Anne Driscoll, Audrey Monke, Alison Moeschberger, Carolyn Graham, and Steve Dimit for encouraging me to write. Without the BlazeBlog, I think I would have been a ship without a rudder this year, and you all helped me build the boat. Thanks.

Thanking Ms. Zika

When I was in high school, I had an English teacher named Ms. Mary Zika. At the time, I thought she was way old. I have no idea how old she actually was. (I looked her up recently, online, since in this era of accountability teacher records are available online. She's been teaching for 36 years. She's been teaching longer than I've been alive. That's amazing to me. I've only ever taught in one school that was that old.)

She was single, told us she woke up every morning at 4 to exercise , and she had an honest-to-God Velvet Elvis in her classroom. I'm told that she wrote murder-mysteries for the staff to participate in.

Above her door, there was a simple stenciled sign that said "105 North Tower". The place Dr. Manette suffered for many years in A Tale of Two Cities. Generations of Northwestern High School seniors have "suffered" in her senior English class.

One of the key components of that suffering was a research paper that Ms. Zika made us complete. I did mine on the appearance of aliens in movies over time. Not when they showed up, but how they looked when they showed up. Bit of a nerd I am. (see what I did there? Yoda phrasing in a sentence about aliens. Clever, huh?). This project was one of the hardest I had ever done. I spent hours poring over movie stills (especially from the early part of the last century). I had to go to a college library to get tapes of old radio Buck Rogers shows. She forced us to do actual research, but allowed it to be in a subject where we had actual passion. It gave me skills that I used over and over again to get through college.

In short, she taught me.

She was mean on the surface, but underneath she was kind and funny. If you gave her candy corns, she would use them to turn herself into a vampire. She didn't take herself too seriously, though she got a kick out of suffering. This was a woman who referred to the dead in Beowulf as "crispy dragon nuggets" and Madame Defarge's "knit list". Oh, and that 105 North Tower sign. The image you see at the top of this page is above my classroom door; the Children Here In Labor Despair sign is a little shout out to Ms. Zika.

I doubt very much that she'll ever read this post, in her honor, but I'm going to write it anyway. I'm going to write it because my Student Council kids are collecting teacher appreciation notes at school, and I realized that I never appropriately thanked the people who ended up as influences on my teaching career. Ms. Zika is not the person who inspired me to get into education. (those two men were Mr. Lindgren and Mr. Lantz.) She isn't the person who inspired me to teach what I teach, since I'm a Social Studies teacher. However, much of the success I've had as a teacher is because of things she taught me.

You see, one of the biggest things that teachers in the modern era have to do is communicate well with parents. More and more, that communication is in the form of email. Many times, principals will advise teachers not to communicate with parents via email, because of two reasons. The first is that they are scared to have you saying things in writing that can later be thrown in their faces. (Simple solution? Be honest and do what you say you will do.) The second reason is that many adults, even in education, are poor at communicating with the written word. Because of Ms. Zika, I'm a good written communicator. That has allowed me to build good relationships with my peers and the parents of my students.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank Ms. Zika, in public, using the tools that she taught me. Too often, we read appreciations of famous people, of the rich and famous, of the powerful. I'm trying to do my little part, to thank the  people who gave the most of themselves to help create me as the man (and teacher) I am today.  I just hope that I'm helping students the way Ms. Zika helped me.

So, I encourage you to do the same. Find a teacher who influenced you, and write them a thank you note. You think they won't remember you. I bet they will.

Thanks, Ms. Zika.