"Enlightenment"
11" x 14"
Graphite on Drawing Paper
My Favorite Teacher
(Other Than Me)
teacher |ˈtē ch ər|
noun
a person who teaches, esp. in a school.
DERIVATIVES
teacherly |ˈtitʃərli| adjective
I was really surprised when I looked up the definition of teacher... I was surprised because for as much that is made out of “teaching” you would think that the definition would require an encyclopedia. I mean this was one dictionary, one person’s (very elite person) view of what it is to be a teacher, so naturally it is limited... but it doesn’t say in the definition above that being a teacher is “going to school for eight years, while paying into an enormous debt-pool that only gets bigger as we move through the process of life.” This debt accrues but we justify it because “teaching” is our “passion” and we have to continue to acquire sweet certificates for an imaginary wall, for imaginary students who will someday see how great we are. Someday we will have that office we’ve been fighting for our whole life, so we can hang all our credentials on the wall and be proud... to show all the people how “legit” we are. The whole while we hate school, we hate our-self and if one is being honest, there’s really three major reasons people go to school to become “teachers”... and I think I have a good idea, maybe you’ll think so, maybe not....
Reason #1:
We don’t know what else to do, we have had very little direction in our lives and it seems safe and easy enough... we think to ourselves “well, I’ve been in school the last 16-20 years, why not, it’s what I know... I know school... “I’ll be a teacher!”)... plus there’s not much to guess about; we pay money, we go to school for such and such a time (of course working really hard the whole time) and then the rest is written (its’ been the same system for over two hundred years, it seems like it’s not going anywhere... it’s safe, it’s secure.).
Reason #2:
We were picked on in our own schooling, we were made to feel dumb, we were made to feel like no one was listening, and what better way to be listened to then having five to thirty ‘fresh young minds’ to mold, in each class. Our parents didn’t listen, our friends didn’t listen, SOMEONE has to listen...
Reason #3:
The third is my favorite... Altruism. We just can’t stand the way we were raised or the schooling that we went through, so we’re going to go in and change it. We are going to go into the School System and show everyone how to really teach kids... how to teach them how to learn. We’re going to be the teacher they never had... and we are REALLY going to get through to the kids and REALLY change the world.
{By no way is the trifecta of generalized reasons listed above a definitive guide to understanding the mind of a teacher, but I’ve talked to a bunch of teachers, from many different backgrounds, these are merely those most common I’ve come across. I am of course open to variations, but I think my assessment of the situation isn’t too far off. Of course, I can only speak from my specific Reality Tunnel but my reality tunnel includes as many perspectives as I can possibly have, if you have a fresh perspective feel free to share it with me.}
My favorite teacher doesn’t fall into any of the categories above. My favorite teacher didn’t go to school to become a teacher... he didn’t dream all of his life of having a classroom where he could pontificate his latest discovery or “learns those kids on some shit”. My favorite teacher worked his ass - off his whole life... I mean his Whole Life, from when he was a zygote. He worked and worked and worked and one day someone came up to him and said “Larry, you know a bunch about this subject because of your years of experience... why don’t you teach it?” He said.... “ Hell no, I’m not a teacher... I’m a Do-Er... so you better get out of my face with that teaching nonsense (I exaggerated here)”.
This favorite teacher of mine is my Father. And some might think this is sweet or endearing and some might be completely surprised... but if I have to be honest, which I really have no choice these days... my favorite teacher is my Dad... and it’s funny because he was a mediocre Father, in terms of what I wanted him to be, but he was the greatest teacher I’ve ever had.... which in turn made him a really awesome Father... I just didn’t realize this until recently... sometimes it can take a while for us to realize how closed-minded we’ve been... taking individual responsibility has the ability to cut at the ego... and the Ego doesn’t like this.
My Father and I butted heads a lot growing up... I died my hair blond, pierced my ears and my face, got tattoos and I drew a lot... this didn’t fit into his worldview, so naturally there were complications. He worked a lot, pretty much his whole life, it’s what kept him sane (sort of, haha). He was a pretty conservative dude, from a family of state-suppressed farmers from upstate New York. He worked on the land most of his child hood and he grew up in a house with seven brothers and sisters... in a house that is smaller than the two bedroom apartment I live in now. His father died when he was around fifteen and it seems the best advice was given to him by his older brothers... they were taught to survive... and that survival didn’t come from waiting for other people to do something, or for other people to show you how to do something. It seems that survival is throwing your self in the mud and learning the tools to come out alive and if your that good... you can come out clean.
My father went to college for a hot-second but he told me that it was less about his studies and more about other things... I will let him tell that story. But he left school and joined the military, the Navy, and he became a Medic. He did autopsies for a while at VA hospitals, I believe in California and Connecticut. He was discharged from the Navy for a hand injury but he was a rebel in the Military anyways (him and I share a common bond when it comes to Authority... we don’t like people telling us what to do).
My father had a family to care-for, so he went back to school. This time, it seems, he had a direction, he went for an associate degree in Electrical Engineering and quickly got a job out of school at Northeast Utilities as a linesman. I remember going to his office and him showing me his desk where he would draft-up the plans for laying down electrical poles and lines... I think all his drafting equipment subliminally stuck with me, because I love drawing till this day.
My father worked as a linesman for a while and us kids; me, my older brother and my younger sister were young, so naturally we were proud of our father and to me, what he did was as mysterious and awesome as being a Rock Star... I looked up to my Dad. He later got a job at a Nuclear Power Plant on the eastern coast of Connecticut.... He still works there, I don’t know how many years it’s been, but it’s felt like my whole life.
Papa Lawrence started working as an electrician but I think he wanted more... I don’t know if he will admit because he always seems to be satisfied with what he has, but he never settled for what people told him. He’s a really driven guy, he won’t just learn something to know it... he will learn something to utilize it and to “do” it, to be the best at it. I wasn’t there, but I’ve worked with a lot of his colleagues and they all told me that he takes everything he does super-seriously and that they learned so much from him (even before he became a “Teacher")... it seems as if my dad was slated to be a teacher... but all he wanted to be was an appreciated worker. He doesn’t like the spotlight... he just wants to be recognized for why he is here... like most of us.
He had spent the later years of his Nuclear Career moving up the Corporate Ladder to that of a Supervisor. This is a position that has the appearance of authority, but in reality there are seven bosses above the Supervisor, so “shit rolls down hill”... yeah know?! I worked for my dad when he was a supervisor, and he was lousy... it’s hard when you are an “expert” at something to then be an authority on it and it was apparent that he had become his own worst enemy... there is a fine line to walk when going from being a super-worker to a super-visor. His career as a Supervisor was short lived and I think we saw my father’s stress level drop a smidgen when decided to take a “Teaching” position that had been offered to him many-a’-time, but he had turned it down because he hated teaching. He was periodically given the task of teaching classes to new electricians, mechanics, carpenters, and all the specialities that lie in between the lines of these general occupations and he was always good at it...
After having a “teaching” weekend or going away on a trip to teach at another power plant he would come home and he would vent some of his frustrations of being a teacher. He really didn’t like it... he just wanted to be given a work - order, sent out on a job and to be left alone to do what he does best... fix other people’s shit!
I feel like my Dad is the quintessential American Blue Collar worker but I know he is so much more than that... but he seemed to be quite comfortable with that title (me, not so much). After a few years of living my dreams I had to come back to “reality” and get a real job, so I got a job working at Nuclear Power Plants. Every Spring and Fall power plants shutdown to do Government Agency ordered maintenance... I worked as an MOV Tester, MOV stands for Motor Operated Valve... everything is a fucking acronym in the corporate structure... it gets a bit annoying after a couple days... because you find yourself speaking in acronyms. I’m not going to get too much into my personal experience here, but I learned a lot about not only my Self but my Father. It gave me a great insight into what this man did for the past ten-some-odd years... I lived, first-hand, what my father experienced... and, to be honest, it kind of depressed the hell out of me... but I learned so much in the process that I can’t hate. I don’t work at the Nuke-Plants anymore, thank Jesus, but I would never take back the four/five years I worked them... I learned work - ethic... I learned that I am not my profession and I learned that my father wasn’t the asshole that I thought he was (because he was always working). I got a great perspective... and I am so grateful... it makes me cry (seriously I’m crying right now).
When I first decided to work with my Pops, we flew out to Washington State where he was teaching a beginners class on MOV’s. He told me to come with him, so I could learn and then I would be able to work the next Power Plant Outage (they call the shutdown an “Outage”, like power-outage). I went with him, it was the first time I had chilled with my Dad in years, a lot of the teenage/college animosity towards each other started to lift and I felt really close to him... like I was finally getting to experience my Dad, I mean at this point I knew very little about the guy... beyond the anger and frustration I had towards him.
I took my father’s class and I saw how quickly we all learned. At the end of the class, the other workers would say to me “bro, I don’t know your dad, but we have taken so many classes on nuke-plant shit, and this is by-far the best class we’ve ever had, we actually all learned something... except for Frank, but he’s just a moron.”... I love blue-colar honesty it beats high-class pretentiousness any day. My Dad was great... he was a great teacher... at the end of the week I felt like I understand mechanics, I understood electrical theories, and for the first time I actually did something with my hands that wasn’t feeding my fat mouth or drawing/painting/computing pretty pictures. I’m not saying I was an expert or that I fully understood but what I was most amazed about, is that I could see the energy that my Dad brought to the “learning” experience and I felt like I understood a bit of him. Many things started to become clear. He became less of the role- Father, and he stepped into being a teacher for me... a guru.
Over the next four years, I took multiple classes that my new-found Guru taught. I worked for two - four months out of the year, I did as he did, at the plants. It wasn’t easy... and when your an emotional, sensitive “Artist-type”... being around a bunch of working-class dudes, who Identify with being working-class can be really taxing, not only on the imagination but on the spirit or essence of a human being. I saw why my father worked so hard and I saw what he had created for himself. There is no one like Larry Kellogg at any Nuclear Power Plants I ever worked at. I know I am bias, because he is the vessel that helped bring me into this world, but he was the smartest guy I met at the Power Plants... he knew what he was talking about... he didn’t just know theories, he didn’t just stand at his pulpit and dictate something that he had learned in “school”... he taught what he knew... and he knew what he knows because he DID it the majority of his life. He knew how to implement shit... and he basically restructured the MOV program for not only his home-plant but for plants across the country... they call him the “MOV Guru”... and I was the MOV Guru’s protege... haha... I laugh because this grasshopper has learned so much more than MOV’s from the man they called the MOV Guru.
My father (and mother but that’s a whole other story) would probably say that I am giving him too much credit or that I am injecting meaning into this experience but he taught me to be self - sufficient. To be self - reliant... that if someone doesn’t know how to do something, gently remove them from the situation and do it your - self... because no one is going to do it how we do it. He taught me to be hard working and to work for the stuff that you want. He taught me that it doesn’t matter what your background is, where you came from, what social status you hold, it only matters what you have done in your life... who you have touched, who you have made smile, who you have taught something to and who has taught something to you. He taught me that people will never live up to what we have in our heads of them... that we have to let people be people and let them learn on their own (my mother still tries to re-enforce this point when I slip). It’s funny because some of the harshest lessons in life can never be recreated in a brick and mortar structure... it can never have curriculum designed for it... it’s life... it’s changing... it’s flowing and it’s fleeting... Life is a learning process and we are all the teacher... we are all the student... or so it seems.
My father, I feel, taught me the most important lessons in life and for so long I blamed him for a lot of my problems... but again, like the great teacher he is, everyone has problems... and it is our own, Individual, responsibility to face those problems and overcome them ( sometimes, if not all the times, with the help of others). He wasn’t and isn’t the most expressive guy when it comes to his feelings, but he taught me to hear what people have to say because we can only learn more about our - Self by doing so. He taught me to face my - Self, to not rely on anyone to do it for me and he taught me to keep doing what I’m doing... to keep doing what I’m doing... to keep doing what I am DOING... Do... do....do...do.
And I am grateful.
“Those who can’t do... teach. And those who can’t teach... teach gym.”
-Jack Black (School of Rock)
*Note to the Reader
If you are reading this and you are a “teacher” and you identify as a “teacher”, a “nuke-worker”, an “artist”, a “whatever” you think you are... I urge you to step outside of the role that you are playing. I urge you to step outside of the box that not only our ass-backwards society has setup but the box that you have setup for yourself. If you think you are a person that lives “outside-of-the-box”... think again! Because there has been a great effort to put us all in boxes... and up until now it seems like it has succeeded... look around... all I see is boxes... but it hasn’t succeeded... I assure you... I have proof but I fear that you won’t accept it... so, other than that, you will have to wait and see, or we can join hands and decide together.
If you think I am bashing teachers, or that I am coming down on your passion or profession... maybe I am... I can accept that. But I don’t do this to position myself in some place where I think I am better than you. I have worked as an Animator, a Tattoo Artist, A Nuke-worker, an Illustrator, a Muralist, a Fine-Artist, A web-designer and now a Writer... but none of this is who I am... and if you want to “Bash” any of these professions, I have novels worth to say about them as well. I am not better than you because I don’t identify with my profession... I just don’t get offended... I am open to information no matter how much it may hurt my Ego at the time... and urge you to open up to all information, no matter the credentials or the source... weigh the information for your - self... don’t listen to what I say or what anyone else says... and if you ask “ then why are you writing what you write?”... I would say to Wake you Up... to wake my Self up... to finally Express how I feel about this thing we call Life. And if you don’t think you are asleep, that’s okay too... I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything, I am only trying to offer my perspective, what you do with it, is up to you.
Om Eim Saraswatyei Swaha!
Om Brzee Namah!
Peace Profound
::)
Dustin
