Rocky Road Is More Than a Candy Bar (Excerpt 2 from an autobiography)

Chapter 3 concludes

[Editor’s Note: The first day of the author’s first week as a new high school teacher appeared on Monday.]

The next day my morning classes went well because I knew what I was doing, but I dreaded the afternoon.
    In my dance classes, I demonstrated how to do proper warm up exercises. The students complied, but I suspected they thought this activity was too easy and beneath them.
    After school, I ran to the girls’ gym and confided in Lil Martinez. “I’m not trained to teach dance. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
    “How much do you know?”
    “Enough for a week. After that, I’m sunk.”
    “Try to find something to teach them they don’t already know.”
    “How can I? They already know everything about dance.”
    “Maybe not.”
    Lil gave me a hug, but it didn’t solve my problem.

On the third day, I requisitioned a record player from the gym office, and during the exercises, I played the theme music from TV programs. The girls seemed to enjoy them.
    Once again, I arrived home exhausted. The week was ending, and I still had nothing to teach those talented dancers.

Bess Valentine
[from the 1959 yearbook]

    I picked up the phone and called Bess Valentine, a school counselor.
    She answered. “Yes, this is Bess. May I help you?”
    “Oh, God yes.” I started to cry.
    She didn’t ask why. Instead, she said, “Come for dinner and we’ll talk.”
    She gave me her address and directions.
    When I arrived, she met me at the door and ushered me inside. We sat on the couch in the living room, and I poured out my concerns.
    She handed me a box of tissues and waited until I stopped crying. I wiped my tears and blew my nose.
    “Every new teacher feels like you do. You’re in a difficult situation because you aren’t trained to teach dance. California is exploding with baby boomers, and legally, anyone with a credential can teach any class the administration asks them to. They know they’ve given you a difficult assignment, so I doubt they’ll fire you, no matter what you do. Don’t worry. It will get easier.”
    “Lil Martinez said I should try to teach the girls something they didn’t know.”
    “Excellent advice.”
    “I still don’t know what it could be.”
    “How are your other classes going?”
    “Fine, I think. My degree was in speech and drama, and I taught English during my student teaching, so I know how to teach those subjects.”
    “Maybe you should concentrate on what you’re doing right.”
    “I’ll try.”
    Bess stood. “Let’s have dinner. You’ll feel better.”
    Although I didn’t think I was hungry, I enjoyed the lovely dinner of pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, and strawberry ice cream for dessert.
    After talking with Bess, I felt encouraged and hopeful. I slept much better that night.

At lunch the next day, a tall, thin woman about my age, with short, brown hair sat with the other P.E. teachers.
    “This is Joyce Conroe,” Lil said. “She’s going to replace Miss Elliot, who is on sabbatical this year.”
    “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Shirley Skufca. I don’t think we’ve met before.”
    “I just arrived. Ron Coleman called and told me about the vacancy, and Mr. Cartwright hired me. I signed a one-year contract. I’m going to live with my parents in Visalia. It’s a short distance from Tulare, and I can save a lot of money. I’ll return to college next year and finish my degree.”
    Surprised, I asked, “You haven’t done your student teaching yet?”
    “No, but I can teach kids how to play sports.”
    I’d be terrified in Joyce’s situation, but she didn’t appear worried. I wished I had her confidence.
    I didn’t realize at the time, but Joyce would influence my life in ways I never imagined.
    The next afternoon, I asked my dance students to demonstrate their favorite dance moves.
    Dianne Smythe flew into the air in a graceful leap, astonishing me and the rest of the class.
    “Wonderful. Could you show everyone how to do that?”
    “Sure.” Dianne seemed pleased, and the girls learned something new. Luckily for me, her demonstration took the rest of the period.
    From then on, whatever I learned from my advanced class, I taught to the beginners.
    Most of what I had learned about dance was from watching MGM musicals, so I taught them how to do the can-can. They loved it. We also did the twist, although I was on shaky ground because many parents thought rock and roll was the Devil’s work.
    I still wasn’t satisfied, but I kept hearing Lil’s advice. “Teach them something they don’t know.”
    But these girls knew everything.
    The next day, I observed them. They were good girls and had probably done whatever their dance teachers required, but it was a shame they couldn’t be free to be more creative. Suddenly, I had an idea. If I were in a cartoon, a light bulb would have blinked above my head.
    “Girls, I know you’ve had many teachers, but this class is different. You’re not only going to be dancers, but choreographers.”
    They exchanged wary glances.
    One brave girl raised her hand. “What’s a choreographer?”
    “Someone who creates a dance. That’s what you’ll do. Get into a group of your choice with three to five other students.”
    They selected groups easily, but sat on the floor, talking instead of creating a dance.
    “What should we do?”
    “Whatever you want.”
    “Aren’t you going to help us?”
    “No, if I did, then the dance wouldn’t be yours. On Friday, you’ll present your dance to the rest of the class. Your weekly grade will depend on your performances.”
    They had been trained robots, but no one had freed them to be creative. At last, I’d found something to teach them they didn’t already know.
    Every week, the performances were better, more creative, and more satisfying for the students, and for me. I’d found my groove. I could survive my first year of teaching, and the students were learning.
    As the principal approached me in the hall, confident and happy, I smiled and greeted him.
    “By the way,” he said. “Your girls are scheduled to give a short dance show next week before the guest speaker talks about his travels to China. This is one of a series of travel talks our Adult Education Department offers.”
    Just when I was beginning to relax, I had a new worry. I had faked my way through the dance classes, but my lack of knowledge would be exposed in front of an adult audience, not just a group of girls. Now what was I going to do?
    Another sleepless night.

Copyright © 2020 by Shirley Skufca Hickman