I Teach! Therefore, I Can!

By John Schissler Jr.

This is a true story of the “American Dream, which author John Schissler Jr. wishes would come true for everybody today. John Schissler, Jr. appropriately named this autobiography, I Teach; Therefore I Can, because he came to a country where he could. He earned a college degree, which enabled him to teach, an aspiration he had since his high school days. His parents had had only a 4th grade education in Croatia and, therefore, stressed for him the importance of an education.
Mr. Schissler’s love for teaching is the primary focus of this autobiography. Come along with his 32 years’ journey as he poignantly displays the art of his profession. If you think you know English rather well, then allow Mr. Schissler to take you on a fascinating language tour through Italy, Germany, and Great Britain. Follow this trilinguist’s destination to Newspeak, Doublespeak, and Textspeak. Watch this wordsmith, with a flair for fun, work on the curious nuances of the Latin, German, and English languages. Share in his levity for teaching and fondness for coaching, which he exhibited toward his students and athletes almost on a daily basis.
In his retirement, Schissler bemoans the lack of respectability for his beloved profession. People insist that education is the panacea for all of today’s societal ills. This seasoned teacher, John Schissler, demonstrates how not only is it a necessity for our society to thrive but also for our democracy to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669851981

John Schissler Jr.

JOHN SCHISSLER, ML. roen je u Jugoslaviji 1943. godine. Prije nego li je navrio godinu dana, njegova je obitelj prisiljena napustiti svoj dom i protjerana iz Hrvatske u izbjeglitvo u Austriji i Njemakoj gdje provode sljedeih est godina. 1950. godine dolazi u Sjedinjene Amerike Drave, u saveznu dravu Wisconsin u kojoj i danas ivi. Diplomirao je na sveuilitu University of Wisconsin u Milwaukeeju. Glavni predmeti bili su mu Njemaki i Latinski jezik, a sporedni Engleski jezik. Predavao je u srednjoj koli John Marshall u Milwaukeeju od 1968. do 2000. godine. U posljednjih dvadeset godina putovao je u Njemaku sedam puta, a Hrvatsku je posjetio 2015. godine. Trenutno ivi u Milwaukeeju sa svojom suprugom, roje djece i etvero unuka.

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I TEACH!

THEREFORE,

I CAN!

JOHN SCHISSLER JR.

Copyright © 2022 by John Schissler Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/18/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

844279

Dedicated to the teaching profession and the 9

Muses who were my lifelong guides.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

LESSON 1     I CAME, I SAW, I TAUGHT

It’s Fun-Damental

A Whirlwind Lesson In Latin

LESSON 2     IT’S ALSO GERMANE

It’s Fun-Damental

Famous German-Americans

LESSON 3     NATIVE LANGUAGE?

More English Anguish

It’s Fun-Damental

British English

LESSON 4     POTPOURRI, POR FAVOR !

LESSON 5     HISTORY THREEPEAT

Roman Empire

Migration Period

The Holy Roman Empire

War Stories

It’s Fun-Damental

LESSON 6     NEO-MYTHOLOGY

Signs Of The Zodiac

Business Logos

Psychology Today

Look To The Heavens

Myth & Lit 101

What In Gods’ Name?

LESSON 7     MOTHER EARTH

LESSON 8     STUDENT/ATHLETES

Boys & Girls Soccer

Gymnastics

Track & Field

Reaching The Heights Of An Olympian

LESSON 9     MY NINE MUSES & ALMA MATERS

LESSON 10   COMPUTER VS. TEACHER: NEWSPEAK

Textspeak

The Conversation Of Death

EPILOGUE

Retirement

BIBLIOGRAPHY

40 PHOTOS

#1      First Year at Marshall

#2      Capitol Building

#3      Pantheon in Rome

#4      Jefferson Monument

#5      Keystone

#6      Dollar Bill

#7      Beer Stein

#8      Gothic Script

#9      Hitler’s Mein Kampf

#10    Germany Map

#11    Two Flags

#12    United Kingdom

#13    World Map

#14    Language Tree

#15    Roman Empire

#16    Holy Roman Empire

#17    British Empire

#18    Pegasus Horse

#19    Greek Alphabet

#20    Gods and Goddesses

#21    Zodiac Animals

#22    Business Logos

#23    Santa Bill

#24    Mother Earth

#25    Biotic Pyramid

#26    The Magic Canteen

#27    Soccer Medal

#28    Gymnastics Ringman

#29    Discobolus Statue

#30    Floyd Heard

#31    Sappho Fresco

#32    Nine Muses

#33    Barbara Majstorovic

#34    Trojan Horse

#35    Star Trek Stamp

#36    Bronze Talos

#37    Modern Talos

#38    Modern Atlas

#39    Apple without Byte

#40    Special Adam

PROLOGUE

I was born in Croatia in 1943 in what was at that time part of former Yugoslavia. My family and I were forced to leave our homes in 1944 in this war-torn country. For the next several months we had to flee for our lives as refugees. We were shot at by British planes, eventually captured, and thrown into a Russian run concentration camp with 30,000 other castaways. Barely surviving the diseases and malnutrition in that filthy compound, our captors decided to send my family to work for the next three years in the peat bogs of East Germany. With the help of an OSS agent, we were able to escape the cruelties of postwar Europe and finally found our way into West Germany. With aid from the Red Cross, it was there my great-aunt, who lived in Wisconsin, was able to locate our family in order to send us CARE packages. After vouching for our livelihood and sending us money for ship fare across the Atlantic, we arrived in Ellis Island in the winter of 1950.

Our first three years were spent in Saukville, Wisconsin. After my father found work at the Schlitz Brewing Company, we moved to Milwaukee and have lived here since 1953. Thanks to the efforts of my parents, we all became proud citizens of the United States in 1956. I attended Catholic grade schools, went on to West Division High School, continued my education at University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee with majors in Latin, German and, eventually, English. I taught all three of those subjects at John Marshall High from 1968 to 2000. I also coached boys and girls soccer, boys gymnastics, and boys and girls track during 30 of those years, although not simultaneously, at Marshall.

But that’s another story chronicalled in another book, which I have written, titled Passage: The Making of an American Family.

#    #    #

Retirement should unquestionably be considered a rite of passage. For me it was June 2000, after which my life would travel in unexpected directions. Being a typical German, I had defined myself by my career – teaching in a large city public high school. I was one of those fortunate people who didn’t hate getting up in the morning to go to work. Since I’ve retired, I began to question how I was going to fill the void with the same enjoyment and satisfaction. It is at this point where I want to tell the reader about my experiences in the teaching profession including the hope it encourages others to consider this noble profession.

It was an unusually hot June day in 1968 as I sat underneath a huge tent, which covered the entire university’s athletic field. Beads of sweat were trickling down my face as I eagerly anticipated walking across the make-shift stage under a canopy which served as our university graduation site. I don’t remember walking across that stage, only that I felt somewhat cheated in that unstructured venue.

However, as I look back at the graduation ceremony, it was fortuitously appropriate that I received my diploma on an athletic field. With a Latin book in one hand and a German text in the other, had anyone said to me I would be a head coach in three different sports for the next 30 years, I would have told them that they had been playing football without a helmet. You see, I never had the opportunity to participate in any sports in high school or, for that matter, in college. It certainly wasn’t due to lack of interest. It was simply a matter of money. If I was going to go to the university, I had to work and save money to help my parents provide me with a college education. That meant I had to work every weeknight after school from 4 to 6 pm as well as an eight-hour shift on Saturdays at a local produce store. In the early sixties, I was able to rest and do my homework because stores were closed on Sundays and only open until 6 o’clock on weekdays.

Yet, I was not spared from any rigorous physical exercises. The workouts were carrying 100 pound bags of potatoes from the sidewalk onto a pallet in the basement of the store. For any jumping exercises, I would leap away from the large wooden banana boxes which too frequently hid stowaways inside the shredded newspapers, which cushioned those tropical treats. The stowaways usually were unusually huge spiders or, just for other surprises, very ugly, scary-looking critters. Unloading watermelons, which we tossed from inside a semi truck, in relay fashion to the inside of the store, were our throwing exercises. The semis occasionally had snakes (harmless?) hidden inside the ‘straw beds. I’d run hurdles over the straw heaps anytime I saw anything slithering in the truck. The few times I actually sat on the bench was to shuck corn for those customers who preferred those ears a capella.

I also had to work, especially in my junior and senior years, to keep my ‘55 Chevy in shape for those frequent cruises down the avenues to the lakefront on most weekends. In those days gas was just 25 cents a gallon. One hour of work could get me three gallons. To save money, I changed the oil and washed this two-tone, eight cylinder vehicle frequently.

Of course, I did more than merely drive around in a Chevy with my girlfriend next to me. In addition to work after school, I had homework but needed to help around the house with the usual chores: mowing the lawn with a hand push mower or getting a real workout shoveling snow away from a three-car garage in our alley. Staying in shape was no problem in those days. And, no, I didn’t have to walk three miles through a foot of snow to get to school in those days. I had a car and it wasn’t far.

How did I come to choose the teaching profession? After attending my first three years of grade school in the small town of Saukville, my parents were able to move to Milwaukee into a house they bought near St. Michael’s Grade School. St. Michael’s parish, which was in a predominantly German neighborhood at the time, was populated with refugees who had come, like myself, from Yugoslavia. Because I knew the English language rather well by that time, I was given my first exposure to teaching. Sister Superior allowed me to go down to the cafeteria most early afternoons to tutor the new immigrants who were in the class. It was the first time I actually considered a career in teaching because I enjoyed it so much. Previous to those sessions, I had considered the priesthood because I loved Latin, which every altar boy had to learn; however, in time the vow of celibacy wasn’t compatible with raging hormones at the time.

I was too young to realize, then, one of the fringe benefits of knowing another language was that I could understand English better. I never made the connection that I was probably getting good grades in English because I knew German. I soon had something to compare it to. It’s a proven fact; students will understand anything better whenever comparisons or contrasts can be made.

Yet, in my preteen years I wanted to be more American than German. I insisted on being called Johnny, not Johann, by family members. My sister Erika also realized how German her name sounded and adopted the name Rickie after the rock n’ roll star, Ricky Nelson. We wanted to be as American as apple pie and hot dogs.

As a teen in high school, I embraced American culture alongside my new classmates at the brand-new West Division High School, a mere four blocks from the house. I didn’t take German at West Division because I figured I already knew it. Besides, it might have revealed my true foreign background. Talk about an identity crisis! So, I decided on a language with real class –Latin -- which I had already been exposed to when I was an altar boy for five years at St. Michael’s parish. I decided to take Latin when I got to West Division with hopes of becoming a teacher or a priest. But I started to get attracted to girls, which made the vow of celibacy less appealing. I, therefore, resigned myself to a vow of poverty instead and decided on the teaching profession because I loved the academic environment so much.

However, my beloved Latin was dropped by the Vatican Council in the early sixties. Roman Catholic churches were allowed to say the Mass in their own languages. When Barbara and I decided to get married in June of 1965, I requested the priest friend at St. Michael’s to have our Mass in Latin. He finally agreed with one stipulation: John, I’ll do it as long as you don’t correct my Latin. We laughed and shook on the agreement.

It was during my junior year at West when I met the love of my life, Barbara, who was the main reason for those happy days. We met in 1961, then married four years later after a long three-year engagement, which allowed me to finish at UWM. She worked at Milwaukee Lutheran Hospital to help out financially. I’ve always called the money she sacrificed a blonde scholarship. Indeed, the best part of our lifelong relationship was that I had someone to share with plus appreciate the memories of those wonderful years.

As for plans for the future, it was my English teacher at West Division, whom I had for three years, who felt I would make a great teacher and encouraged me to enter the field of teaching. She was one of the women, other than my mother and my wife, who made a lasting impact on my life.

After a very satisfying practice teaching experience at John Marshall Jr., Sr. High, I thought I had died and gone to teacher heaven. To my surprise, I received a letter confirming my appointment as a Latin and German teacher at Marshall for the start of the 1969 academic year.

I still remember the first day I walked through the main door into those hallowed halls. It was there where I suddenly recognized a teacher I hadn’t seen since my junior year in his class. He smiled but didn’t recognize me as he strode past me to the staircase. Had he stopped, I could have introduced myself and reminded him of a remark he made to me in his classroom after handing me a D test paper. It still stung in my ears: Well, Mr. Schissler, I guess you’ll just make a good garbage man. From then on, I knew I’d strive to be a better teacher than he was.

After a long and close scrutiny of my past, I have encountered an interesting conundrum: despite the best laid plans, life has a way of throwing you some unexpected curve balls. With that in mind, I always advised my pupils to get involved in as many activities as possible in school and not to take everything for granted. I reminded them if they thought they were certain about what they wanted to do with their lives, things could change very unexpectedly. I’d quote to them Robert Frost’s famous line that they might possibly wind up on that road less traveled by. It’s a cliche, yet so true – life is full of surprises.

I’ve always maintained that, as a teacher, I will always be right if I do it for the kids. They can’t vote yet, so they really don’t have a voice. We must be their advocates to make sure they get all they deserve because there are always others in the bureaucracy looking for ways to cut education budgets to please the taxpayers. The bottom line is, unfortunately, their main concern.

And speaking of the bottom line, I am saddened by the paradox, which torments the teaching profession to this day. I often hear people say that teachers are underpaid, but they will be the first ones to complain if their taxes go up to pay for the education of their children. The main reason we have a democracy today is because of public education, and if we don’t continue to support this key element to our society we will lose our fragile democracy. We need to be reminded that public schools are inclusive, private schools are exclusive. We should not allow anyone to be excluded from attending quality schools. Of course, that involves investment in public education.

On April 14, 2012, I wrote an editorial which appeared in the Milwaukee Journal/Sentinel newspaper. The article was titled What Happened to Respect for Teachers? I knew beforehand there were readers who’d respond to the article with snarky remarks like stop your whining! You only work for nine months! First of all, we are unemployed for the remaining three months and a great number of us have to seek part time work elsewhere. We don’t get paid for Christmas or Spring break. Our two-week paychecks are just for nine days in order to cover those breaks. There are no Christmas bonuses either. We have merely four paid holidays as long as they don’t fall on a weekend.¹

Since when have teachers become a drain on the economy? The very people who complain about those overpaid teachers and high taxes have no problem dropping $6 for a beer at the ballpark or stadium to support millionaires who play games exclusively. The only conclusion I can arrive at is that these fans believe sports celebrities (they are not heroes) are more deserving than the people who work with and for their children. Let’s level the playing field and give education the same break."

Here is the argument. How often have I heard: These young people are our future. If that’s the case, when are we going to invest in them? We spend six times more money on prisons than on schools? I can’t count how many times I’ve heard this line: Teachers just don’t get paid enough. Yet, nothing is ever done about it. Our kids have become so unimportant that the first place we cut funding is education. Finally, what has become of our value system when entertainers and celebrities, who make the big money, are held in higher esteem than teachers, who make the bigger difference?

Teachers have been told, If you don’t like your jobs or the pay, then quit. Well, in today’s disrespectful climate, teachers have done exactly that. The consequence of the public’s response to the problem is there are at this time more teacher shortages than ever before. Furthermore, to make matters worse, those positions are being filled by unqualified college graduates whose fields of study are in entirely other areas. I’d ask parents if they’d allow a dentist, an M.D. also, to operate on their child?

[Coincidentally, as I was writing this book, I received an email in August requesting my services as an English teacher at one of our local schools. At the age of 79, I am no longer able to endure the rigors of teaching much less putting in an 8 hour day, five days a week.]

Finally, to add insult to injury, it still irks me to this day when British playwright George Bernard Shaw wrote: Those who can, do – those who can’t, teach. Let’s just remember that those who do can simply do so because they had a teacher show them how they can. One of the reasons for this book is to dispel Shaw’s claim about teachers.

There’s a de facto caveat which must be addressed. There are too many in the world of work who were well-trained and certainly can do, but were poorly educated. Allow me to elaborate. Let’s say there is a chemist who understands what kind of reactions he will get when he combines certain elements with certain metals. But, when he goes home, he frequently berates his wife, and then wonders why she wants a divorce. A person with a degree in psychology will be able to teach him how to save his marriage.

If you love something, you should share it. Since I am a linguist and have taught three languages, I will write about what I know best. As a result, I’ve earned the title of wordsmith. I will prove words matter and we should pick up on all of their nuances. I hope the following chapters, which I labeled Lessons, will have value for their information and enjoyment because learning should be fun. In the process, I will affirm the value of teachers. I will use humor, where it’s appropriate, as a vehicle to the truth. In addition, I hope to prove that my colleagues did, can do, plus do more than the public is willing to admit. Finally, the meme, If you can read this, please thank a teacher, is not an exaggeration.

---

¹    Schissler, John, What Happened to Respect for Teachers? Milwaukee Journal/Sentinel, April 14,2012, Editorial

LESSON I

I CAME, I SAW, I TAUGHT

#1 My first year teaching Latin at John Marshall High School

As I’ve already mentioned, my introduction to Latin language was in 4th Grade at Saint Michael’s Parish. The good sister convinced me to become an altar boy because the parish was always in great need of acolytes since there were daily masses, which all the classes attended every weekday morning. There was also a Sunday mass in German held in the lower part of the main church. After I begged my parents to allow me to become an altar boy, they signed the consent forms. Mom was especially elated her son was interested in such a pious endeavor.

My exposure to the Latin mass included more than merely the prayers. It introduced me to Gregorian chant and the wonderful classical music played on an awesome organ on the balcony of this huge church. To this day, I get goosebumps whenever I remember hearing the opening notes of some of those grand classics. The pipes resounded through the entire inside of this beautifully stained glass structure. I think it’s amazing a 4th grader could learn to love long-haired music along with that controversial rock n’ roll.

The scent of the incense was almost intoxicating