Argue for Your Limitations, And They are Yours

In those first three years of teaching high school, I not only had to create lesson plans and coach two sports, I also was required to get my English teaching license and my masters degree.  The teaching license was my deal with the district when I took the position.  The masters was required, at the time, during the first five years of a teacher's career.  That really didn't leave me much time for anything else.  Looking back, I still don't know how I did it.

I had already picked up a couple of classes at St. Francis, but changed over to IPFW when I was required to take the English classes.  I took one class there with a professor whose name I have blocked.  The reason I can no longer remember it is that I had nothing but trouble with him.  It was a simple American Novels class.  How could that be a problem?  All I know to this day is that he didn't like me.  How do I know?   He told me.  Evidently his attitude toward me wasn't enough to affect my grade, I got a B.

This wasn't the first time that I had this situation in my major.  In fact, the reason I was needing to complete my English license was directly related to a similar situation in my undergrad work at Manchester.  It actually started in my freshman year.  I had never failed a class, ever.  And D's were foreign territory as well.
But in my freshman year, I flirted with an F and became close friends with D's.  However, I did enjoy that year.  I was deeply influenced by seniors in my dorm who lead me astray.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore years, I was faced with dropping out or bearing down.  

Two things affected my decision: the Vietnam War and my father's threat that I would work at his gas station the rest of my life.  So I changed my outlook on education my sophomore year.  I worked at it.  I had a goal.  I was going to be an English teacher.  Until the third trimester it was all working.

Even though I was working very hard and getting good grades, my roommate was making sure that I still had a social life.  Gradually, I weakened until I was very sick just before spring break.  I went to the clinic.  The nurse there said that I should consult my doctor, so I called home.  Mom set up an appointment.

On my way home, I fell asleep while driving.  Luckily, I came to a stop in the middle of a corn field.  A state police officer found me and somehow got me home.  Most of the rest is a blur.  What I eventually found out was that I had mono and couldn't complete the term.  When I was well enough, I met with the dean who had arranged for me to take an incomplete for all but one of my classes.  I was able to finish them through correspondence with the professors.  The class that I wasn't able to complete - American Novels.

The dean had spoken on my behalf with the professor but was told that I was too far behind and that he would be too busy in the summer.  I went to the professor myself.  He indicated to me that he didn't really think that I was cut out to be an English teacher, so it wasn't worth his effort to carry me any further.

I was devastated.  I had no idea what I had done to make him feel that way.  So, I did a stupid thing.  I stopped taking classes to be an English teacher and worked on my PE and health classes.  I gave up on what I really wanted to do and took the easy way out.  So when the IPFW professor treated me the same, I became somewhat unnerved.  I didn't want to give in again, but I would have to cross his path at least two more times.

My answer came after football practice one day.  Timon Kendall was gathering his things and hurrying out.  

When I asked where he was going, he said Ball State.  He told me that he found that he could get his masters quicker there for less money.  That folks, is how I ended up getting my masters at Ball State and completing my English teaching license.  Timon and I would drive down together until he completed his degree.  The last year I drove alone, but it was worth it.

What I took away from all of this was that I could take charge of my life.  No professor knew me better than I knew myself.  The only limits that I had were what I put on myself.  A few years later, we introduced Richard Bach's book Illusions to the Humanities class.  One page in that book has been the quote that I have used the rest of my career: "Argue for your limitations, and they are yours."  And when I hear a student say "I can't", that is when I know what  I need to start teaching.  Sometimes it is best to teach what you have learned best.