‘Are we going to watch a movie?’

Sleeplessness, sickness and other teacher Opening Day Eve rituals

To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

--Robin Williams in Dead Poet’s Society

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If you’re just starting your first day as a teacher, let me let you in on a little secret. Prepare for a restless night.

Oh, and feeling like you’re going to throw up is not uncommon either. (That morning sickness may actually continue for the first week. Bring mouthwash and a change of clothes to work.)

I’ve been teaching for more than a decade now and the sleepless, sick feelings of Opening Day Eve have not gone away yet. It took me years and a few stories from other teachers to convince me I wasn’t alone in this.

Ah, but there’s something else you should know. The first moment in front of your students. That’s where the magic begins. And all the sleepiness and sickness will be forgotten as you turn on and try to flip their “on” switch also.

Of course you’ll be exhausted and sick again the second night, but that’s another story.

Ben Franklin said that “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.” You’ve done all the lesson preparation. But have you prepared yourself for the marathon-length sprint that is the 180-plus day school year? I’ll share my own ritual to give you ideas if you don’t have one (or if you want a new one).

My annual pre-school ritual consists of studying the greats of education, or at least my greats: Charles Edward Chipping, LouAnne Johnson and John Keating. That is, a movie marathon consisting of “Goodbye, Mister Chips,” “Dangerous Minds” and “Dead Poets Society.”

I can’t recall how I came to choose these three movies, but they’re always in the same order and they never fail to get me in the right mood for the year.

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

This 1939 tearjerker sees Robert Donat playing the reserved teacher everyone calls “Mr. Chips.” During his long career dedicated solely to perfecting his craft and his students, he aspires to be headmaster of his boarding school for upper class students in WWI-era England, but is always passed over for promotions. He finally finds himself coming out of retirement to lead the school as many younger teachers – and former students – have gone off to fight in the war. He mourns with the rest of the school the daily remembrance of students and teachers who have died, and celebrates with his school as he announces the war’s end.

I always enjoy seeing the younger Chips coming to the realization, with the help of his wife, that teaching is about more than strong content and discipline, but getting to know the individuals in the seats.

This year’s viewing was especially significant in light of recent calls for school reform. At one point, the headmaster asks the senior Chips to retire for failing to conform to the new teaching methods. Chips sticks to his guns and stays on long enough to convince the headmaster that the old ways are just as valuable in molding boys into fine young men.

The movie becomes Kleenex fodder when Chips, on his deathbed, responds to people empathizing that he never had children saying that is untrue; he has had thousands. And as his life flashes before his eyes, what he sees is the long line of students he has served, punctuated by the last student he helped saying “Goodbye, Mr. Chips.” Sniff.

Alternate choice: “Mr. Holland’s Opus.”

Dangerous Minds

This 1995 movie adapts LouAnne Johnson’s book about her early teaching experiences, “My Posse Don’t Do Homework.” Michelle Pfeiffer plays the ex-Marine who finds it difficult teaching in a poor inner city high school until she employs what one IMDB.com critic called “unconventional teaching tactics”  -- like getting to know her students (see Mr. Chips) – to help them find success.

The part that always gets me is when Pfeiffer visits the mother of two students who haven’t shown up in days, only to find out the mother had pulled them out of school.

“I saw what they were bringing home: poetry and (expletive deleted),” the mother tells the flabbergasted teacher. “A waste of time. They got more important things to worry about…. I ain’t raising no doctors and lawyers here. They got bills to pay. Go find yourself some other poor boys to save.”

I don’t see myself as a savior. But this scene reminds me that our students have a life outside of school, sometimes a difficult one, and we can’t forget that as we try to teach them things from which they see no immediate payoff.

I’m also struck by the ironic reality of education when Pfeiffer asks a veteran teacher for supplies to help her challenge the curriculum, and she’s told they’re out of copy paper and art paper and low on pencils. “But we have a lot of students so that about makes it even,” the sarcastic vet says.

Alternate choice: “Freedom Writers.”

Dead Poets Society

This 1989 film was one of my favorite films before I even thought about switching careers to teaching, but it took on greater significance afterward. Robin Williams plays an energetic English teacher at an all-boys New England school who teaches the importance of the classics, but more so includes life lessons on going against the status quo and living for the moment (making the Latin phrase “carpe diem” famous).

This one has more favorite scenes than I have room to describe (for those of you who’ve seen it, I can just abbreviate it thusly: standing on the desk, ripping pages from the “J. Evans Pritchard” poetry anthology, walking in the courtyard, kicking soccer balls while reciting poetry).

But the thing that gets me fired up, and why I save this film for last, is when he kneels in the middle of the class, huddling his students around him, and telling them why we read and write poetry.

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Between this and timid student Todd “sounding his barbaric yawp” with an impromptu poem in front of the class, it shows me the awesome possibilities of teaching.

Alternate choice: None. There is no substitution for this one. Enjoy it on its own.

So to all the teachers out there, good luck for a good Opening Day Eve and for a good year. And to paraphrase Mr. Keating: Carpe diem, teachers. Seize the day. Make your lives – and those of your students – extraordinary.

What rituals do you have on Opening Day Eve? Email me your story, name, school and how long you’ve been teaching at unknownteacherTU@gmail.com for possible inclusion in a future posting.

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