Bel Kaufman - Up The Down Staircase

The doctor says I am lucky. I could have had a crushed instep, instead of "a simple fracture of the base of the fifth metatarsal." My foot will be in a cast for a few weeks, but I’ll be well in time for the new term at Willowdale.

Right now I'm in a kind of limbo: Because of clerical errors and snarled red tape, I'm not officially out of Calvin Coolidge, nor officially in Willowdale. The only thing I'm sure of is that I am in the hospital, lying brazenly in bed in broad daylight, while someplace bells are ringing and classes are changing and kids are waiting. Kids in schools all over the city, all over the country, pledging allegiance to the flag in assemblies, halls, classrooms, yards—hundreds of thousands of right hands on the heart, hundreds of thousands of young voices droning the singsong: ". . . one nation under God in/divisible . . ." Someplace kids are taking a test, frowning, clutching pens, chewing pencils, thinking, thinking in a kind of silent hum. Or arguing in bus or subway about something they had discussed in class. Someplace a solitary kid sits absorbed in a book in a library.

It's absence that makes me so nostalgic. For I must remember, too, the drudgery and the waste. Frustration upon frustration, thanklessness, defeat. The 3 o'clock exhaustion; the FTG fatigue (The Sophomore Slump, the Senior Sorrows). And getting up for early session; in winter, dressing by electric light to punch in before the warning bell, to erase the obscenity from the board, to track down the window-pole, to hand in before 1, before 2, before 3 ...

And "misunderstandings of feelings." (How often I find myself quoting a student!). And the gobbledygook, and the pedagese, and the paper miles of words.

One wordless moment with Ferone, one moment of real feeling, and I had toppled off my tightrope, parasol and all.

And Ferone—where is he and what is to become of him?

I wonder how he himself will tell it, or recall it. "I had this teacher, see, and once, on a winter afternoon . . ."

I keep remembering what he had said to me. "What makes you think you're so special? Just because you're a teacher?" What he was really saying was: You are so special. You are my teacher. Then teach me, help me. Hey, teach, I'm lost—which way do I go? I'm tired of going up the down staircase.

So am I.

What is it that I wanted? A good question. Interesting, challenging, thought-provoking, as required in the Model Lesson Plan. A pivotal question, "directed towards the appreciation of human motives"— and eliciting answers I may not like.

I wanted to make a permanent difference to at least one child. "A Teacher I’ll Never Forget"? Yes.

I wanted to share my enthusiasm with them; I wanted them to respond. To love me? Yes.

I wanted to mold minds, shape souls, guide my flock through English and beyond. To be a lady-God? That's close.

I wanted to fight the unequal battle against all that stands in the way of teaching. To blaze a trail? Indeed.

Yet I am about to quit.

Am I but another dropout?

I think of new kids that will come and go, card after card in the Delaney Book, dropping without a ripple out of sight. The same kids, but with different names, making the same mistakes in the same way. I think how little anyone can do, even with love, especially with love. And I long for Willowdale. (Those windows! Those windows with trees in them!) I think I'm not so special after all.

I will have time, as I lie here alone with my fifth metatarsal, to do a lot more thinking.

They've just brought me a stack of mail.

Write me c/o the hospital. (I haven't told Mother or anyone at home of my accident.) Let me know if my electric rabbit reached Suzie in time for the tree, and how your eggnog recipe turned out. And a very merry Xmas!

Love,

Syl

P.S. What statistics can I give you?

Did you know that the median age for female accidents in the schools is 48.2? And that the accidents occur mostly on the stairs?

I don't seem to fit.

S.

Greetings on your illness and best wishes for coming back soon. This sub we made her so miserable I bet she'll never show up around here again. While she's having histerics in the office we're all passing around this Round Robbin in rows alphabetically even though a lot of us are absent, to tell you your method of teaching was fair and square. If there is anything I can possibly do about it I would do it. Have a Happy New Year always.

Frank Allen

Elizabeth Elis said we should sign our real names to show that you thaught us to have the courage of our convinctions. So here goes. A man's reach should exeed his gasp is a statement true to life and I am using it daily. This proves your lessons sunk in and you didn't drum it into our heads for nothing. Hoping you will get well soon and enthuse about books once more.

Andrew Alvarez

(Use to sign Anonimus)

Some one told us a terrible rumor that you're not coming back to us. We miss you something terrible. Even tho it's just before Xmas the whole class can't enjoy it. Please please come back & I'll do anything for you, even read a Julius Ceasar.

Janet Amdur

A Xmas present doesn't have to be only a thing. It can also be by telling you how you helped us this term, which is what we decided to do. How you helped me is in giving me a liking for school which I previously lacked. It's awful you got hurt but they say you'll be OK soon. If Alice was in front of me she would sign her name too so I'll sign for her.

A Merry Xmas from Carole Blanca

And Alice Blake

I refuse to sign this robin.

Poisen

Excuse my english if I would of studied harder I could now be riting you a nice letter like the others, if you can read my riting you would know your class was my happist time of life.

Real name Marvin Chertock

I can't believe you're not coining back. School wouldn't be school without you. Every time you came into the room (304) I always looked you over, no offence I hope. When I told my friends about you they all envied me. You don't make the subject too confusing, also not too hard on the eyes, which adds to my knowledge. Myself and my whole family is praying for your speedy recovery to English.

Gary Daniels (A Bashful Nobody. Now you know!)

Some things can't be expressed in words. Even though I want to be a writer, I know this. But I think you know what I mean when I say only "Thank you".

Elizabeth Ellis

You and Roseanne (my imaginary twin sister) are my only friends and both beautiful to look at. Don't let anything Bad happen to you in the hospital. When I used to have my other English classes I used to have those excrushiating headaches. But since you, I don't mind if they give me English 20 times a day and I mean it.

Your Admireress

Francine Gardner

Though I made a funny face when you said you would read poetry I really disliked it. In case I don't see you in person, I hope they can save your foot, I knew some one (R.L.) who got into a foot accident and is on cruches.

I used to sign Guess Who—did you guess who?

Rachel Gordon?

I wish you a complete cure and New Years. You gave me a deeper understanding of people like Pygmallion and others.

Sam Harper