Aw, Geez, Ronnie, We'll Miss You

Just as I was heading to the train tonight I happened to walk by Holy Name Cathedral, where the public viewing for longtime Cub Ron Santo was taking place. Although I had contemplated going to the viewing earlier in the week, I honestly had forgotten about it until I saw the barricades that were still standing. I still didn't even plan on going in, but curiosity, I suppose, got the better of me. And guilt. Here I am, a so-called diehard Cubs fan, grumbling and rambling about baseball's winter meetings and free agency signings, and I was still reluctant to pay respects to a man who lived for the Cubs and the Cubs through him. In many respects, I lived vicariously through the Cubs, especially while listening to Pat & Ron call the games on WGN, so much so that I feel like a chapter of my life has now closed with his death. Does that mean I've decided to move on from the Cubs? Of course not. It just means that I can look back at a certain period of time, perhaps from May 2000 until maybe the end of the baseball season in 2004 with a bit of nostalgia and wistfulness, even as I've grown through marriage, parenthood, education and employment.

I had to go in for the viewing, and my eyes did all the informing. The giant placards noting that no photography was allowed. The church's magnificent rafters. The smattering of Cubbie Blue throughout the pews. And the casket, at the end of the long aisle, with Santo's number "10" draped over it. On top of the casket, maybe over Ron's heart, was a golden mitt. On the ground to the left was an easel with a large picture from his playing days. There were also a couple of ushers--or security guards, I wasn't too sure--flanking the body, presumably to keep the real diehards from lingering too long. I waited my turn in the short line, watched the guy in front of me cross himself before leaving, and then I stepped forward.

At that point, I almost asked aloud, "Now, what do I do?" Everyone in the cathedral was watching me, or so I felt. I stood there, taking in the moment before hearing in my memory a cacophony of Santo's on-air reactions. "Aw...geez," "Wow!" "I can't believe it!" "Oh no!" and a host of other things he may or may not have uttered. It was always the emotion, not the words, listening to Ronnie. I had pictured him practically leaping out of his legs when Derrek Lee hit a pinch-hit grand slam a few years ago, and I chose to remember Santo for his exuberance rather than his exasperation. Feeling my moment was up, I nodded toward the altar and then to the ushers as I glided out. Even now, more memories keeping flooding back.

In the summer of 2003, it was clear the Cubs were competitive. It was the June series against the Yankees that proved the Cubs were serious. When Eric Karros launched a rocket out to left to give the Cubs the lead in the Saturday game (in which Kerry Wood earned his 50th win), pandemonium nearly rang out. Just a few innings earlier, one could have heard a pin drop at Wrigley when Cubs first baseman Hee Sop Choi lay unconscious on the field after colliding with Wood while corralling a pop up. Leading up to and during the next day's evening game, Ronnie described some of the reactions and emotions from the big roller-coaster win. I can't recall his exact words, but it was always fun to listen to him whether he was up or down.

He hated Alfonso Soriano's hop. You know, the one Sori does when he's catching (or sometimes dropping) a routine fly ball. He'd groan when a pitcher would airmail the throw past first base on a routine dribbler back to the mound. He'd burst with enthusiasm when a ball was driven to the gap or a perfect throw nailed a runner at the plate. And he would have these exchanges with his partner, Pat Hughes, that were, simply put, a riot. 


Ronnie always made sure to plug his pet cause, too. When the Cubs drew their first walk of the game, he would note that, "for every walk drawn by a Cubs player today, Walgreens will make a Big, Big donation to my walk for the cure" of JDRF (Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. I always meant to participate in the walk. Maybe next year.


I only met Santo once, while I was working for my previous employer, a urologist. I was covering the check-in desk during a lunch break when he arrived for his appointment. He was getting an opinion regarding treatment of his bladder cancer. This was back in the fall of 2003, two days after the Cubs won the division title and one day after that moving ceremony to retire his number. Of course, we had scheduled him at a time when no other patients would be around. Icons are people, too, and they deserve to go to the doctor's office without questions from autograph-seekers. I don't think he even said a word when he checked in--I told him to take a seat when I first saw him. "I'll let the nurse know you're here." As much as I wanted to talk baseball with him--and there are many who can attest that I'll talk with anyone on the subject--I kept it professional. I even remember waving his wife in a few minutes later when she arrived after parking the car.


Even now, after he eventually succumbed to the disease, I think about how challenging that must have been for Santo. After a whole career of playing  for and then calling games for the Cubs, he wasn't able to be there for the playoff series against Atlanta, the one (and still only) playoff series the Cubs have won since 1908.  He met his challenges head on, between the diabetes and cancer and heart disease, and the perennial disappointments on the field. During these past few years, as Ronnie began limiting his road trips with the team, I kept hoping they'd find a way to make it to the World Series while he was still alive. No one would have enjoyed it more than he. Shoot, the veterans committee will probably vote him in to the Hall of Fame the next time they meet. Too bad he didn't get in while he was alive, because he absolutely deserved it and would have relished every moment of it. He was a guy we all could love--he showed us how to wear our emotions on our sleeves (for better or worse), and he certainly helped me rekindle my love for baseball. Now, I hope he's clicking his heels, wherever he is. 

End of Student Teaching

Actually, I finished my student teaching internship last Friday. Altogether, I taught Mrs. Moore's world literature classes for approximately 9 weeks, covering three units (grammar basics, Epic of Gilgamesh and The Iliad). For Mr. Scott, I assumed control of the classroom for 7 weeks, handling the pantomime portion of the intro to drama unit and all of the improv unit. The minimum requirement was just four weeks, but I'm not sure how anyone could prove he/she was ready to be a teacher based on four weeks. Some may say the same for student teaching for just 10 or 11 weeks, but I'd rationalize that, over the course of ten weeks, one would have a pretty good idea whether he/she possessed the tools necessary handle a classroom. Somehow I managed to fit in quite a few points of interest.

The last two weeks were no exception:

• The student whose stories seemed to be all over the place (among other things, he claimed he had been searched by Chicago police officers because they suspected he had a loaded weapon in his possession) spent most of my final two weeks in a posh psychiatric facility before returning to the classroom on my final day. I guess he's certifiable.
• One of my best students transferred to another school because she and her family believed that she wasn't safe in the building. Hopefully, her transition is going smoothly. 
• The student who refused to participate in the improv research project was denied again in his quest to transfer to a different class, as he had missed three programming opportunities during his junior year. Mr. Scott had another chat with the student, learning that the student didn't want to work with the gay students in his group. Not that either Mr. Scott or myself believe that is an acceptable position, but the greater irony is that there weren't any gay students in the group which he had been assigned. For improv group performances, I actually succeeded in placing the student with a different group, led by one of the school jocks. Of course, I was all but certain that that plan would fail when the first character the jock assumed in their improv game was a gay hairstylist. Thankfully, everything worked out.
• One of the teachers in the music department quit at the end of the quarter, leaving the school in the lurch--especially when it came time to do parent-teacher conferences the following week. While I understand that the teacher felt out of place in this profession, most would agree that there could have been better timing.

Of course, the parent-teacher conferences were fairly "educational" as well. One female student--bright but failing due to lack of submitted assignments--came in with her father. Mrs. Moore and I knew there were some emotional issues going on anyway, based on the student's irrational behavior and what we knew of her background, but the tension between the girl and her father was palpable. At one point, she told him to shut up, and she said there were troubles at home. More discussion led to tears. I played the encouragement card, noting that she was quite capable of doing the work. I will be curious to know how the rest of the year transpires for her.

In another conference, a mother talked about how she starts work at 3 am and calls her son at 6 am to wake him for school. He couldn't explain why he fails regularly to attend his first three classes, including our world lit class, except that he was tired. He works on the weekends, so that shouldn't be a problem--Mrs. Moore theorized that he is participating in some extracurricular activities that keep him out late.

For the theater classes, I found it fascinating to talk with some of parents of students from Mr. Scott's other theater tech I class. One student is considering studying theater in college, so I recommended my alma mater to the parents. I had few parents for my own classes, except for the middle school students, and even they had less representation than I expected. One couple spent 20 minutes wondering what their seventh grader could do to bring up his grade. After Mr. Scott and I detailed some of the extra credit options and what was ahead in the class, the parents finally left. We could only shake our heads at the fact that the student in question has a 92 percent in the class. If only the students who were failing had so much attention from their parents.

The overall experience was affirming. I learned quite a bit from each of my cooperating teachers, and just as much from the 184 (give or take) students I taught and other teachers and administrations with whom I worked. I gave my appreciation to the principal and one of the assistant principals, as well as the head of the English department, and they all encouraged me to obtain my sub card. Too bad CPS isn't currently accepting applications for substitute positions (at least not officially), but I need to make sure I knock on the door and ask. I don't want a potential opportunity to pass me by. And, as Mr. Scott noted, there are some "crazy-ass subs" at our high school. Returning back to my office job this week only reinforced the notion that teaching is my calling. Can't wait to do it with my own classes. 

Last Week

Tomorrow is my last day teaching all five sections, as I am ceding the classroom control of the world literature classes back to Mrs. Moore. It has been a fun ride, but now we are wrapping up the Iliad unit. Altogether, I'd say I taught the class for nearly nine weeks, though Mrs. Moore still played a significant role in setting up the unit projects and has done more grading than I think cooperating teachers normally would. I have done as much as she would allow, but I can understand the desire to maintain control over the gradebook.

At the same time, Mr. Scott has given me complete access to entering his attendance and grades for the three sections for which I'm responsible. I have learned how to create assignments and update grades readily, and it is valuable to be able to view the students' cumulative grades. Mrs. Moore and I reviewed the final grades for the first marking period today, and the numbers are, simply put, abysmal. There are a number of students earning As and Bs--those are the students doing the work. And then there are the rest, most of whom will have great odds to overcome if they are to even sniff a D. I tried to evaluate what I have done over the course of the term, and I compared the numbers to my theater classes (well, the high schoolers), and came to a reasonable conclusion: it doesn't matter the content area, the approach or the difficulty level--students with the willpower to do the work will do well, and those who don't, fail. While it's presumptuous to based statements on just ten weeks in the classroom, it is evident that the students have been passed along, coddled and allowed to get by simply by doing the minimum.

I have given multiple appeals to the students, reminding them that even striving for sixty or seventy percent success won't cut it--those would be the employees who would be laid off first. Colleges won't look at Ds and willl be concerned with Cs. Students have to expect more from themselves. We've evaluated the work, too, and students even admit that the work isn't hard. So why don't they do it?

It starts when the students are younger. My middle school students hardly ever miss school and rarely miss an assignment. Granted, these kids are almost all overachievers, while the high school students in my classes have likely never fit that bill. That being said, I expect more from the students, and I don't put much credence into the low test scores. They suffer from test fatigue and believe the test results don't mean anything, so the students don't try to do well--they just get through it.

The other reason my seniors are not doing the work is that they have too much going on outside of school. They have jobs and sports and familial responsibilities--at least one has a baby at home to care for, and many fill in parental roles for their younger siblings. We have tried to be accomodating by giving students time to do work in class and giving them plenty of notice on more time-consuming projects. Some take advantage of the time, others don't.

I had my final evaluation last Thursday. My university supervisor came back to see the theater class presentations, which were a mixed bag of results. I tried to make sure the strongest presentations went first, and I ended up being a little disappointed with how the students did overall. Perhaps that's because my expectations were so high. Some groups did work really well together; others, well, I think I covered that on a previous post. Now that all groups have presented and the papers have been graded, I am proud that I took the leap of faith and went big for the research project. But after seeing the overall grades, I can understand why Mrs. Moore is struggling in her decision to pursue the big, exciting project she has planned for the spring, or whether she wants to stick with simpler, paint by numbers-type assignments. With such a high failure rate despite manageable, relatively easy work, how can one expect students to succeed with a more challenging project?

My feeling is that we must keep pushing. Students who are challenged consistently will work to overcome those challenges; apathy sets in otherwise. If I can continually push myself to keep the options limitless for students, I believe there will be success. And if nothing else, I'd rather be able to say I tried with my best, rather than settling for just getting by. Isn't that why I'm changing careers to be a teacher?

Nearly eight weeks in

It's hard to believe how quickly the time is flying! Last night I had the last regular class session for my university seminar. We covered a couple of items, including applying for certification. Is it starting to feel real yet? I feel like I’m ready. Give it another week, though, just to be sure, and together we’ll evaluate my progress. Why one more week, you ask? I have my final observation from my university supervisor next Thursday, and the theater students should be presenting their improv projects. Honestly, I have no idea what the outcome will be.

I could have played it safe for the unit, just sticking to improv games and briefing the students on the history on improvisation in theater. Instead, I have gone big. Thankfully, Mr. Scott was on board from the get-go, and it certainly has helped to bounce ideas off him as we progress. For the unit, I created six teams for each class, each team corresponding to a well-known improv theatre troupe, i.e., Second City, The Groundlings, et al. Each team has to put together a research paper and presentation on their company. I thought it would be a fun way for students to really gain appreciation of the art form, particularly with its strong Chicago roots. Throw in bonuses for integrated technology and collaborative work, and I think I’m hitting all the marks with the project. Part of the struggle is getting enough time for the students to work on computers during class time, since the students are from varying grade levels and don’t have the same lunch periods or much ability to work together after school. They should be doing some research outside of class, but I have to be realistic about how much they are able to do. I assembled the groups in mixed abilities, with even gender arrangements and broken up cliques. The idea is that the groups will also work together for their improv sketch performances, so the collaborative work should yield good results. If all goes well, students should be submitting their papers and projects on Monday, giving me time to at least peruse everything before the presentations.

I have had a couple of small fires which I have had to diffuse. In my first period class, the group studying Second City was fighting because one girl said the other had to do the interview requirement. The first girl was trying to say that she could do her own research for the presentation, and everyone else could do the paper—I had to explain that it was important for each of them to take sections of the project and assemble the same info for both the paper and the presentation. Thankfully that seemed to work.

My other situation involves a student whose first language is not English. I think it may be Polish—we do have a significant Polish population at my school—but I’m not certain. He has refused to work with his group, and he pretty much stated that he thought the theater class was stupid. The only reason why he was still in the class, he said, is his counselor would not let him transfer out. Ironically, he had asked for bookwork and other assignments to augment his reluctance to perform, which I said he couldn’t do—he has to participate just like everyone else or face the consequences. With this project, I had tried to get him to work with his group, but he maintained his refusal, even after I told him that he would likely fail the class if he didn’t do well on the project. When he pulled the same thing again today, I gave him a new assignment: he will have to do his own paper and presentation on Keith Johnstone and his Gorilla Theatre. I don’t have faith that the student will complete the work, but at least his group doesn’t have to plan for the contingency of him actually participating. When I gave the group the news today, at least one of the students had no idea he was even part of their group. If he does do the presentation, it could be interesting for the rest of the class. I haven’t yet figured out what we’ll do for the improv performances, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Three weeks from tomorrow is report card pickup and my last official day as a student teacher. I will likely go back the following day, which is a regular class schedule, just to see the students and aid in the transition back to my respective cooperating teachers. Hard to believe it’s coming up that soon. Aside from not getting my usual paycheck, and the crazy commutes, I’ve really enjoyed this experience. Even the staff development meetings and bureaucracy—it’s a welcome change from the medical billing world. Hopefully it won’t be long before I have a classroom of my own.

Second evaluation is in the books

Today was a busy day. I had my midterm evaluation with my university supervisor, the only evaluation for world lit, and all things considered, it went well. Not exactly smoothly, from my standpoint, but I managed to have things go well enough that my grade certainly benefitted.

While I was presenting to my students how to create a Voki (an avatar) for use in their Epic of Gilgamesh projects, I found I had a terrible time trying to embed the finished product on my page. Each attempt seemed to bring me no closer to a finished product. The last thing I wanted to do was confuse students, but in the end, with a brief reminder from Mrs. Moore, I was able to demonstrate for the students what they needed to do. My university supervisor gave me credit for not getting flustered, so that definitely scored well. In all I think I received exceeds student teacher requirements for the bulk of the evaluation. Now I just have one more evaluation left, in three weeks. That one will be for theater. I'm looking forward to it.