They Touched My Life

By Robert Rose Ph.D.

Be an elementary teacher? In 1958 this was not even a consideration. I was going to be a child psychiatrist and novelist. I hadnt done any writing during my four years in the U.S. Air Force, but I had functioned as a psychologist-social worker. At twenty-one I had my own office and I was giving marriage counseling to noncommissioned officers and officers who were decades older than I was. I had practical experience doing individual and group therapy and even used psychodrama techniques. The psychiatrists I worked with all believed I was a natural therapist and they gave me dozens of books to read, we discussed their cases, and they wrote recommendations for me for medical school. My goals were lofty; then, reality set in. I didnt have the money (or grades) to become a doctor. My bachelors degree in psychology was next to useless. A friend suggested I teach while I pursued advanced degrees to become a child psychologist. It was a painful compromise. I had already given up my dreams of becoming a professional actor or athlete and I would have to be an elementary rather than a high school teacher so I couldnt coach football or track. It was like being a dishwasher rather than a restaurant owner. There was also the commonly held belief then that a male elementary teacher must be somewhat effeminate, if not an outright homosexual. Throughout my career people have been surprised (disappointed?) that a man who looks like a light-heavyweight boxer could be a teacher of small children. Still, I had a wife and a child to support so I got a teaching credential.

I had been bored in school and I was determined to make my classes interesting, but I was totally unprepared emotionally, educationally, or organizationally. I was wildly successful only because I was charismatic, creative, and I truly enjoyed the children.

The more I realized how much more effective I could be with so many more children every year as a teacher than I could be as a psychologist, the more I knew I had stumbled into a great career. I had found my calling. I could express my artistic self through music, art, dancing, and drama. My athletic needs were met by playing with the children while teaching them all the sports I loved. I had a captive audience for my need to perform as I read to them dramatically and transmitted my eclectic love of learning. I was proficient in many psychological techniques, which came in handy as I probed their brains and changed their behaviors. I was almost too clinical in the first few years as I secretly tested my children using the ink blot test, sentence completion, and the TAT (ambiguous pictures) which I used as means to motivate their writing. Later, I realized that it was not so much the testing, as it was the time I spent individually with children that made the difference. I was interested in each of them and they knew it and so they shared their lives inside and outside the school as if I was their therapist.

Therapists never get the opportunity to see their clients in the environments that are causing their problems. I not only saw things through their eyes and the dynamics of their relationships, but I was in the position to actually change these by what I did. Whether it was as simple as changing their seat or reading group or placing them in allegedly extemporaneous plays to act out (feel) a role that they needed to experience, I made immediate changes in their lives. It was then I knew that my (often) traumatic experiences as a gifted Jewish child alone in hostile schools where I was seen as an evil presence was not unusual. It was not religious, racial, cultural, or gender differences alone, it was the very structure of the schools that caused the horrific and demeaning situations that almost every child experiences. The const

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 18, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462831609

Robert Rose Ph.D.

I would like to be seen first as a great husband and father, but I have often failed my wife and the mistakes I’ve made with our children (yours, mine, and ours - the magnificent seven) I have tried to make up for in their adult lives. They say I have. My wife and I have gone through many conflicts and difficulties, but we have survived them all and now our love is flourishing and deeper than ever. I used to fantasize about being a Nobel winning novelist, but now I just want to share my experiences and visions with others. My books are psychological self-help, educational workbooks and teachers’ guides, children’s plays, and novels. My most consistent success has been as a teacher. In “BECOMING A MORE CREATIVE TEACHER,” I explain the characteristics of a creative teacher and environment and answer the questions I have been most frequently asked.

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Copyright © 2000 by Robert Rose, Ph.D.

ISBN #: Softcover 0-7388-2347-3

Ebook 9781462831609

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Contents

author note

mr. rose, your fly is open!

there are no straight a students

the best receiver

rose’s rockettes

teacher training

the russians are coming

jake, the first child i hated!.

al jolson imitator

yes, boss!

next assignment

the factory

everyone a hitter

wrong way rose

my first, best lesson

no spelling lists—bad BOY!

mathematizing science

SECOND EXPERIMENT IN INDIVIDUALIZED INSTRUCTION

PIED PIPER

subbing in san Bernardino

SPECIAL EDUCATION, A SPECIAL EXPERIENCE (AND BIG BOY)

RAFEAL, GOOD COMPREHENSION—BUT HOW?

BOBBY KNIGHT, WATCH OUT!

TEACHABLE MOMENT

WHAT DID I GET INTO?

HELL AND TESTING

MARY LOU—IQ 56 OR 125?

DAVID. WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I NEED?

LYNNE, UNEQUAL WOMAN

ABNER, BIBLICAL GOLIATH

PARENTS, MORE MUTUAL RESPECT

TEACHER EVALUATION

FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES

PUPIL PROGRESS PROFILE

IT’S SAD WHAT A QUARTER WILL BUY

TEAM TEACHING

LITTLE ENTREPENEURS

MR. ROSE, YOU’RE SUCH A CUT-UP!

WE WON’T DO IT, MR. ROSE

This book is dedicated to the thousands of children who have touched my life. You will meet a few of those who have transformed me into a better teacher, a more complete human being. I thank each one!

I began teaching only as an interim job to earn money until I completed my doctorate in psychology. I was an arrogant psychologist teaching elementary children.

It took only a few years for me to realize how much the children had done and were doing for me. Each year was more interesting, exciting, and fulfilling. Each year I was touched by the challenges and contacts in ways that made my life more meaningful. Each year different children touched my life in ways unpredictable.

I thank every child who has enriched and blessed my life. It has seldom been dull, it remains full of surprises, and, it’s been fun!

author note

The anecdotes are not all in the order they happened and the names and situations have been changed to clarify a point or to be generous to a guilty person. In some cases my memory of the incident (despite notes, diaries, and records) have been affected by my ego and age. All memories are subject to human error and bias. (And, how do you write autobiographically without making yourself mildly to immodestly wonderful?) The essence of each story has been retained. I am not proud of some of the things I have done, but I have learned from my mistakes and have evolved into a more creative, competent, and compassionate (not humble) teacher.

I have always demonstrated what I think are the most important attributes of a good teacher or parent; I genuinely liked and respected my children.

mr. rose, your fly is open!

It was 1959, my first year of teaching. Besides the principal, I was the only man on the staff. He hired me because I asked to take the most difficult students. I had a B.A. in Psychology and had spent four years as a psychiatric social worker in the Air Force. I wanted the most difficult children so that I could study and learn about them in one of their natural habitats. I was planning to get my doctorate and then become a child psychologist. I had no intention of spending my life as a no-status, boring elementary teacher. I was much too smart and talented for that.

After getting my psychology degree at UCLA, I spent one year in teacher training. They gave me very little training, but I was too smug to learn anything anyway. This meant that I had to rely on my own experiences. Actually, it was my memories of what I had thought teachers did from the perspective of a child who had been bored to death.

Doris was tiny, even for a fourth grader. She was quite attractive. Her mother always dressed her in full dresses or skirts which billowed as she moved. Doris was polite and this was her main way to get attention.

I liked her, but I figured she’d never amount to much because she was academically slow. Her fingernails were usually dirty and her clothes were from the Salvation Army. (I was unaware of my middle class bias and it did prevent me from helping her reach her real potential).

My class was lined up at the foot of the stairs outside of our main building which housed about ten classes. Doris raised her hand and I glared down at her. Being six feet tall I towered over the children and from the height of six additional steps I must have appeared gigantic. I loved it!

Her hand kept waving from the middle of the girls’ line and I growled, Doris, put your hand down. You know there’s no talking in line. I turned and imperiously waved them forward. I was the general leading his small troops into battle. In two lines they quietly moved through the double doors into the dark, dank, hallway towards their room.

I turned again and walked slowly against the grain with my elbows pointing to both lines. If a child got too close to the other line, my elbow would hit him. Keeping the lines straight and separated was somehow very important. A teacher was judged on the way he moved the class from place to place. My military training showed and my principal often commented on the quietness and straightness of my lines.

The first ones arrived at the door and they stood there waiting for the rest to close ranks and for me to give the order to move into the room.

Mr. Rose, your . . .

Doris! To the leaders, Move it in the room! I stood at the doorway so that I could watch them enter as well as monitor those in the hallway. Everyone moved into the room, except Doris. I started to yell at her, but she quickly interrupted. Pointing downward she quickly said, Mr. Rose, your fly is open.

I’m sixty-five now and I vowed then that the next time that happened it would be time for me to retire.

It was the beginning of my realization that one of the most important qualities of a good teacher is to take the time, no matter what else seems important, to always listen to a child.

there are no straight a students

You’re getting to be a good teacher, Mr. Rose, but you give high grades too easily. Your grades do not reflect the children’s actual abilities and, when they go on to the next teacher, the child and his parents have an unrealistic attitude about him. When the next teacher gives him the grades he deserves, the parents complain.

Mr. Murray, the principal, was concerned because several teachers had experienced irate parents because the children had received higher grades from me. I was only a probationary teacher, but I used grades as a means to motivate as well as evaluate. I wasn’t well versed in educationese, so I couldn’t defend my position. In fact I didn’t even know what I believed because my teaching was more intuitive than cognitive. (Actually, I had no idea what I should have been teaching or what the children really needed.) I felt that a child would work harder when encouraged by good grades than when every little error was permanently engraved in red into that fragile psyche.

I sat there and couldn’t think of an adequate reply. I knew how stupid I’d sound if I said that I just felt that my way of grading seemed to make my children work harder.

It was not—scientific.

Look here at this one! Bob, this is totally ridiculous. You have given this child straight A’s. This GIRL even got an A in P.E. Nobody is that good or talented. I want you to reevaluate her report card and change it so that it reflects her real abilities, not something you made up.

No! You may be right about some of the others. I don’t know why my kids don’t do as well with other teachers as they do with me, but Melinda has earned every A. She deserves each one and she is every bit as multi-talented as the report card states. I’m not changing any grade!

Murray was taken back by the fury of my attack. Teachers didn’t argue with their superiors in Los Angeles, especially if they were probationary ones. His face immediately got red, but I didn’t care. I had stood up to my college president, officers and noncoms in the service, and even to a general in the Air Force when I strongly believed I was right. I was scared, but Melinda was as extraordinary as I had stated. She was worth fighting for.

MR. ROSE, I am the principal of this school. I have the right to approve EVERY grade, everything that leaves this school. You will find some areas to give her B’s.

No. Let’s go over this card. You’ll see there’s not one thing I can, in good conscience, change. In every academic subject she is heads above every other class member. With an IQ of over 150 she has the potential to learn anything and she does. Plus, she always goes way beyond what is expected of her. Her term paper had excellent content and quality and was twice as long as the next best one.

Alright, maybe she’s earned her academic grades, but what about music and art?

She plays three instruments; the piano, flute, and guitar, which show her versatility. Her illustrations are part of what made her term paper so extraordinary. She writes poetry and short stories. In the plays in our readers she not only can act any part, but can direct the others to do well.

Well, she is a girl, certainly she can’t . . .

She can hit a softball as far as any of my boys and I’ve got some good athletes. In some of the sports she isn’t as good as some of the boys, but she’s superior to any of the other girls and she quickly picks up any sports or skills I teach.

And I suppose she’s always courteous and polite and never gets into conflicts?

She’s not a goody-two shoes type. She gets into conflicts, but she handles them well. Everyone likes her. She’s our class president and she handles her powers well. She’s not perfect, but she is a superior person who deserves every single A I’ve given her.

To his credit Mr. Murray actually gave in and her grades remained A’s.

I don’t know if she ever lived up to her immense potentials, but I felt good that I was able to let her know that I believed in her extraordinary abilities.

Grades are very subjective and I’m against the abuses of grading, however there are times, and this was one of them, in which grades can be used to reward or to show the child just how much she or he is appreciated.

the best receiver

In my first year I had four boys who were as good or better than any athletes I’ve ever taught. one, Phil, was the best receiver of any.

Besides spending time after school kicking the ball to a bunch of my kids and others in the school, at every recess I would line the boys up and throw bullet passes at them. It was kind of a rite of passage. I was a six foot, one hundred and seventy pound man who could throw the ball hard enough to make a nasty bruise, even if the boy caught it correctly. No one was forced to take a bullet and before each child went out he was asked where and how hard he wanted it. I never threw it hard (as a joke) to a boy who had asked for a feather pass.

I threw it full bore at my four. Phil caught most of them, even when they pulled him off his feet. He was the smallest of the four and not as graceful as the others, but he made up in effort and raw guts what he lacked in natural ability. I loved him.

In class he was a joker. Mr. Murray had given me what I asked for and Phil had driven teachers crazy with his jokes and aggressive behavior. He’d fight anyone for the littlest thing and wouldn’t stop until he’d soundly beaten the other boy.

After failing to get their attention using the UCLA method of, All right, children, don’t you think we should all sit down and get started? and their frequent No! as a response, I started to clip the boys in the back of the head with my hand when they were too noisy or disruptive. Despite (or maybe because of) my genuine love for Phil, he was the recipient of several cuffs.

During parent conferences his mother and father came in. His father had been in an industrial accident and was on permanent disability. He couldn’t get out and play with Phil and his brothers as he had done before.

They sat down and he nodded as she said, I want to thank you for what you’ve done for our son. Last year, after Phil Senior’s accident, little Phil became hell on wheels. We thought he’d end up in Juvenile Hall for certain. These past few months with you, we have seen such a wonderful change in him. He’s nicer to his brother and sisters—and to us. I don’t know what you’ve done, but keep it up.

I blurted out, I hit him!

They laughed and the father said, He needs it. Ya got my blessin’ to hit him whenever he needs it.

She added, He tells us when you’ve hit him and he admits that each time he deserved it. One time you got him good and he said his head rang for two weeks.

Jest like them passes thet he kin handle, he’s proud thet he takes his punishment like a man.

I was wrong during those days in attributing my control to the physical punishment I too readily gave. Because I had the full support of all the parents, I assumed this was acceptable and was the reason for my control.

The main reason that children and parents allowed me to physically punish their children was that they could see how much I liked them and what I did for them. It was my rapport with each child that made the difference, not the punishment. I liked Phil, he knew it and so did his parents, so they excused my ineptitude, inexperience, and inadequately thought out educational philosophy.

However, since teachers were not allowed to paddle or suspend, and to send a child to the principal was seen as evidence of the teacher’s inadequacy rather than the child’s problems, teachers were limited in their responses until they had time to develop trust and rapport. With disturbed or sociopathic children, their

disruptive and dangerous behaviors were the beginning of the end of teacher control.

I had control and even helped other teachers in my building who were afraid to ask the principal for help; but I could have been quickly fired if any of the parents had complained. I was defying the policy of the L.A. School Board. End of career. I knew I was living on the edge, but I also knew their policy was not working; mine was.

rose’s rockettes

My second year I had a terrific bunch. There were six gifted children in my sixth grade class who became my teaching assistants. Melinda of the straight A’s was one of them. I found that if I taught them the concept or skill first, then they were excellent intermediaries. It is the basis of what is known as peer teaching.

Actually, it is a step approach. Sometimes the intellectual and explanatory distance between a teacher and the middle and slower students is almost unbridgeable by many teachers. By first explaining it to a small cadre of students who are closer to their peers in understanding, they can communicate the idea or skill more easily.

During this time span in L.A. there was fierce competition between sixth grade teachers in what was the year-end culmination of their social studies units. All the academics were supposed to flow from and be integrated with these units. They were similar to the presently popular thematic units. Educators constantly rediscover the same old things. Teachers were allowed to be creative and the