Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    One Teacher's Life
    One Teacher's Life
    One Teacher's Life
    Ebook162 pages1 hour

    One Teacher's Life

    By Paul Deangelis

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    One Teacher's Life is a fictional account of Brian Miller's life both in the classroom and out. It presents his ruminations on topics such as grading, interactions with administration and staff, intimacy issues with students, the joy of a successful lesson, lesson plans--not, the complexities of being a gay teacher, the difficulty of maintaining excellence in a proscribed environment, and much more. Ancillary elements include teacher evaluations, samples of literary exegesis, anecdotes, and reflections on life in more unfettered times. The book is not a manual or a guide. But all the various chapters, and episodes within them, are parts of a mosaic, the 'tiles' (tesserae) that make up one person's life-mosaic, each meaningful on its own but gaining greater meaning when in combination to form One Teacher's Life. (This piece-of-a-whole concept inspired the book's cover.) The observations are presented with humor--and angst. There is much joy, but pain as well. His moments of euphoria with his students are tempered by the frustrations of a confining professional atmosphere. The reader can ride this emotional roller-coaster with Brian Miller as he shares the tesserae of his life as a teacher.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPaul Deangelis
    Release dateFeb 12, 2017
    ISBN9781370337798
    One Teacher's Life
    Author

    Paul Deangelis

    Taught at James Caldwell High School, Caldwell, NJ Training Manager at Garden State MLS Studied English-Language and Literature at Boston University Studied English Major/Secondary Education at Montclair State University

    Related to One Teacher's Life

    Related ebooks

    General Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      I Lie About My Teaching

      Jul 29, 2014

      I Lie About My Teaching
      3 min read

    • Article

      Just A Gymslip Mum

      Mar 12, 2020

      Just A Gymslip Mum
      2 min read

    • Article

      Why We Love Our Teachers

      May 2, 2023

      Why We Love Our Teachers
      11 min read

    • Article

      Nobody’s Martyr: The Millions Interviews Shannon Reed

      Jul 6, 2020

      I do try to love all of my students, and meet them where they are, then help them move a little bit further down the road. The post Nobody’s Martyr: The Millions Interviews Shannon Reed appeared first on The Millions.

      10 min read

    • Article

      LOTS to Learn

      Dec 27, 2022

      LOTS to Learn
      4 min read

    • Article

      ‘My Spelling Isn’t That Great’: Michael Morpurgo On Why Teaching Kids To Love Writing Is More Important Than Grammar

      May 18, 2022

      I didn’t love reading at all when I was young. As a teacher, I loved it, and now as a reader, I love it. But I was put off the whole idea of words very early on. Some years ago, I was made to do a key stage 2 (seven to 11 years old) English test. I d

      5 min read

    • Article

      Finding College by Way of Prison

      Apr 6, 2018

      “Name your favorite book, and tell the class what you like about writing,” our professor said on the first day, asking each of us to introduce ourselves. “‘The Autobiography of Malcolm X,’” I replied. “And I like writing because I can paint a pictur

      5 min read

    • Article

      Learning experience

      Dec 30, 2021

      Learning experience
      10 min read

    • Article

      The University of Life

      Aug 18, 2022

      The University of Life
      2 min read

    • Article

      Learning To Love Myself

      Feb 14, 2018

      Learning To Love Myself
      4 min read

    • Article

      A Novel IDEA FOR A CLIMB

      Oct 2, 2023

      A Novel IDEA FOR A CLIMB
      7 min read

    • Article

      An Epilogue to Homeschooling: A Mother Hangs Up Her Homeschooling Hat…Now What?

      Oct 3, 2022

      Estimated reading time: 11 minutes — My chest feels achy. It’s felt like this for weeks now. I keep catching myself holding my breath, losing focus, reaching for something to soothe me, staring into space. This isn’t me — who is this person, I wonde

      7 min read

    • Article

      Protagonists

      Jun 18, 2021

      Was the craft of fiction around desire and obstacle taught by men and for men, for men protagonists and men readers? Was fiction part of the patriarchy? Was the craft of fiction part of the patriarchy? The answers were all yes. The post Protagonists

      7 min read

    • Article

      Kate Brody

      Jan 4, 2024

      My second-grade teacher, Ms. Axelrod, hosted a writers’ workshop every Friday afternoon. Each week, we would write, edit, and ‘publish’ new stories. I had always loved reading and telling stories, but the publication part was new and alluring. I stil

      4 min read

    • Article

      Prometheus Bound In ISS

      Dec 10, 2021

      The room I’m in lacks character. Oh, it’s full of characters, all right, but none of them are the prizes of this fine institution. But as a room, it fits the basic definition. There are four walls, a door, the standard issued government purchased des

      16 min read

    • Article

      Everything I Don’t Know About Swords: On Teaching Creative Writing

      Mar 19, 2018

      1. One evening in grad school, half-drunk and Googling my own name, I found a blog run by one of my fiction students. I shouldn’t have read it, but of course I read it. “I already hate this class,” she wrote. “My teacher is a stuck-up snob who won’t

      7 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for One Teacher's Life

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      One Teacher's Life - Paul Deangelis

      Preface

      This book is neither a memoir nor a teacher’s manual. It is a fictionalized account by the narrator of his life as a teacher.

      P.D.

      My Life as a Teacher

      By Brian Miller

      FORWARD

      While the events conveyed in this book are largely autobiographical, I have changed names, dates, locations, and sequences. It is not meant to be representative of teachers in general. It is My Life as a Teacher. Some of the chapters are in the present tense, as I had written them in my journal.

      Brian Miller

      CHAPTER 1—THE BEGINNING

      It all started in fourth grade. Or perhaps it even began with our second-grade teacher, who was so perfect that we all cried until the principal agreed to assign her to us again for third grade. We cried again at the end of third grade, to no avail. But I think that her kindness and generosity of spirit had already inspired me, subconsciously; consciously, I was not particularly kind or generous. I was good academically, but otherwise I was a brat. I like to think it was because I was bored so often, but still I did spend a lot of time in the cloakroom because I couldn’t sit still or shut up. So I brought home lots of A’s for classwork, and lots of U’s for deportment. The cloakroom perhaps best symbolized this dichotomy: when I was in there I would smugly answer questions other students couldn’t. Ha. Our fourth-grade teacher wasn’t as saintly as her predecessor (this was her first year teaching), but she was pretty, and her stockings rubbed together when she walked. Anyway, I was hooked on learning, but my Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder kept getting in the way. In seventh grade I cut school with some friends, rather than sit in class all afternoon (it amazes me still that we were so dumb as to attend class in the morning and then not show up in the afternoon). My mother was not amused. My teacher pointed out to my mother that I was palling around with some bad influences. The nerd in me was proud to be part of that tough-guy group, even though I only really liked one of the three. He was two years older, having been demoted twice. He was ruggedly handsome, with strong features, a hard body, and black curly hair. He had a BB gun. He wore white tee-shirts with the sleeve rolled up over a pack of cigarettes. And he would expose his underwear periodically. What more could I ask for? He also became my body-guard, making it plenty clear that short, scrawny, nerdy me was not to be messed with. In eighth grade I had my first confrontation with two autocratic teachers. One was a relic, literally, of the ancient past of a generation ago, and I was not about to be straight-jacketed by her. We opposed each other for an entire year. I would rather sacrifice brownie points for good grades than cow-tow to this witch. Unfortunately, she taught English, my favorite subject, but it was all rote and rule-learning. In the same year we had a dotty geography teacher, who still told the same bizarre travel-stories she had told my sister’s class five years earlier. Like the time she and a gentleman sat under a serape on top of a pyramid. I guess we were supposed to be impressed by her adventurousness, but most of us found the image to be ridiculous. I acted up in her class as in others, and one day she told me to go sit in the back of the room. I went but didn’t sit. She followed me and pushed me into the chair. I sprang up, glared at her, and went right down to the principal’s office to report her. A nice reversal there. Of course my mother had to come in yet again, but it was worth it, to have stood up, literally, to autocracy. In ninth grade, because of my music schedule, I was put in a class with mostly C students. It was unbearably boring. Once again I locked horns with the teacher, and she became the first teacher I made cry. As I said, I was a brat. Once again I paid a visit to administration and somehow managed to convince them to transfer me to the difficult teacher’s class with all the A students. He was full of himself (had a doctorate), but he was the first teacher to echo my love of poetry. I was on my way. Then in language class I became proficient enough that I became the teacher’s assistant, grading papers for her (I became exempt from test-taking; and yes, she was lazy), and eventually teaching literature classes for her in my senior year. I loved it.

      College was more of the same. Mostly boring classes, some terrific ones, but I had learned how to sit still, fortunately. My four years in college proceeded unremarkably. Yes, I had my first taste of real stardom in my Latin classes, where I worked on translations while others worked on declensions and conjugations. And yes, once again I refused to buckle under to a teacher, who, believe it or not, would assign B’s regardless of merit, and would then expect you to go to him to grovel for an A. It was pretty disgusting, and I refused to participate.

      In senior year I had my first taste of real teaching, when I began my stint as a practice-teacher. I was assigned to the Department Head of a nearby high school, who was as boring as dirt. I managed to win the favor of students by falling asleep on more than one occasion while observing. Then it was my turn. My most remarkable class was a group of misfit juniors, who counted among them homeless kids, two pregnant girls, and a few knife-carrying hoods. Not the type of class to assign to a newbie. One event forever stands out from that time. My college advisor, who was responsible for observing and evaluating me during this process, one day visited this class while we were studying Huckleberry Finn. The class went surprisingly well, and I was touched that some of the students tried to help by participating more than usual. I was up for the evaluation. Her one comment: was I aware that someone was chewing gum? Huh? No one was killed, no one jumped out the window, and her one concern was gum-chewing? Well, we never did see eye-to-eye, and she graded me with a B. Fortunately, my other mentor—the one whose class I slept through—outvoted her and gave me an A.

      After graduation, I went to graduate school, and it was here that I really started learning for the first time. I learned more in that one year (yes, I managed to take 10 classes and pass the written comprehensive exam in nine months; pat on the back), than I had in the previous sixteen. When I graduated, I felt I was ready to take on anything. I wanted to go on to my doctorate, and even already had an advisor lined up, but the Viet Nam War intervened. It was either run the risk of being drafted, or putting aside my plans for a doctorate and starting to teach, with its automatic deferment. I chose the latter.

      So began the applications for teaching positions, and then subsequent interviews. I interviewed at all of the schools to which I had sent applications. The worst interview involved a Department Chair who took note of my short stature and asked if I thought I could control a class. I was stunned. It had never occurred to me that my height might be an obstacle. Did a teacher have to rely on physical intimidation to keep order? I had no problem when I practice-taught and saw no reason why I should have a problem in the future. I crossed this school off the list. Another school was fine, but they taught exclusively with anthologies, which I detested. Then I interviewed at the high school they called the zoo. The halls were noisy, close to mayhem; kids hung around all over inside and outside. When the bell rang, it was like being on an NYC subway platform during rush hour. I was terrified. And I decided that was a good thing. It would force me to loosen up my slightly martinet-ish side and learn to go with the flow. It was the best decision I ever made.

      Epilogue:

      When my father died when I was a freshman in high school, my third grade teacher sent a lovely note. Ever perfect.

      Many years later, I happened to run into my fourth grade teacher. When I asked if she remembered me, she said, Of course. I remember wondering what was behind those intense brown eyes.

      In tenth grade I met one of the most unusual—and wonderful—teachers I ever had. He looked funny, walked funny, and talked funny. He was riveting. First marking period he gave me and several other of my fellow-academics our first C. It was a shock. And it gave me the kick in the pants I needed. I couldn’t coast here. So I worked hard and loved every minute of it. His teaching methods were unconventional, to say the least. He would call us to the blackboard, and if we failed to solve a problem, he would bang our heads against it. He never really hurt anyone, but it was unorthodox, to say the least. But that wasn’t his most questionable behavior: He would deliberately and pointedly select students as his favorites, based on performance, but

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1