August 2006

What it's all about

By Herm Card

How'd I get here?
I ask myself a lot,
when I'm thinking about
things I could have done
with my life.

If I could have hit a curve,
for example,
and been a little taller,
and a step faster,
I could have been playin* ball on TV
and making the big money.

Or if I had hung in there
with law school,
I could have been a judge by now
or a senator,
or at least a partner in a firm,
and making the big money.

But instead, I wound up
in a school when I needed a job,
and once I caught on,
I could have been a principal,
or maybe even a superintendent,
and making the big money.

But I'm in a classroom
with a hundred and some kids
passing through every day,
trying to give something that's
not about making the big money.

It's about when a conversation begins:
I had this teacher once ...

May 2006

Mrs. Thomas

By Herm Card

Mrs. Thomas was a hard, demanding,
drill sergeant
of an eighth grade English teacher,

who scared us daily,
tested us weekly,
and smiled, maybe, monthly.

She read to us,
in her no-nonsense-you’d-better-pay-attention voice,
from “The Man without a Country.”

At the part where
Philip Nolan was really wishing
he had kept his mouth shut,

the principal walked in quietly,
whispered in her ear,
and left.

In her no-nonsense way,
Mrs. Thomas, in her best voice,
told us that Coach Conwicke had died,

excused herself politely,
walked out of the room,
and left us alone.

She returned
to our puzzled silence,
wiped away a tear that had escaped her,

and resumed her no-nonsense reading,
becoming again,
the Mrs. Thomas we knew.

But, not completely.

April 2006

Triumph

By Herm Card

It has been said that Julius Caesar,
returning to Rome from a campaign,
honored with a triumph, the great victory parade
accorded successful Roman generals,
would ride in his chariot with a slave behind him,
whispering in Caesar’s ear:
“This too shall pass,”
to remind him of the fragile and tenuous nature of victory.

If I were to have such a procession,
returning from a classic victory
on behalf of the English language,
I would replace the slave with an eighth grader,
Whispering in my ear:
“I don't know. Like, um, it was a really OK win and stuff,
but, um, it wouldn't be, um, like something that would be like around all the time and stuff. Or maybe it would or something.
Whatever.”

January 2006

Thinking Outside The Jargon

By Herm Card

I will not think outside the box.

It is hard enough thinking inside the box,
especially since I am not entirely sure what the box is.

I don’t believe I need anything
jump-started or ratcheted-up.
Ramping-up is also unnecessary.

Neither will I hold a mirror up to my teaching,
nor I attempt to fix the airplane while I am flying it.

I won’t worry if the bus driver has the right map or
if the captain has enough sail to get us to port,
assuming he has plotted the right course in the first place.

I have no immediate plans to take a 30,000-foot view of the situation,
and, needless to say, I will not be opening my kimono
at the next, or any other, faculty meeting.

As tempting as it might be to step up to the plate,
swing at a fastball over the middle of the plate,
and to knock it, coverless, out of the park,
I shall not.
There was a time when I might have wanted to,
but I am told that the research doesn’t want me to.

No, I am wrong. It was something else
that the research didn’t want me to do,
possibly throwing the baby out with the bath water.

Yes. That was it. Under no circumstances
should I throw the baby out with the bath water.
Or with anything else, I presume.

It would be very bad to throw out the baby,
but I can’t dwell on that now.

I am too busy trying to see what has appeared on the radar screen,
checking all the while for warning shots fired across my bow
as a front reminder, you know, a heads up, an FYI,
to keep me off cruise control,
insuring that I don’t jump the couch or fail to keep a good focus,

but still give 150% – even more than the whole nine yards,
as the sand runs to the bottom of the hourglass that
has come to represent my teaching career.

November 2005

Equalizer

By Herm Card

I met a woman in a book store
who said that she had heard
good things about me
in the education community,
and that she was signed up
for a couple of my workshops
and couldn't wait to take them.

My ego was bathed in a warm glow.
I smiled and took on a knowing sort of air,
perhaps nodding a bit and being charming
in an intellectual sort of way.

Then I sat back down to grade the papers
that I had brought with me and
discovered that I was not such a big deal as
either of us thought.

October 2005

Rhetorical

By Herm Card

I used to be taken aback a bit
when a conversation began
with someone saying to me:
"I thought you had retired -
how much longer before you do?"
It used to bother me,
but I have mellowed.
Now it only bothers me if it's said
by an administrator
after my observation.

Herm Card, a member of the Marcellus Faculty Association, teaches English at Chester S. Driver Middle School in Marcellus.