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I haven’t had the time to write lately, unfortunately the new house is more work then I have time for. It’s good and it’s bad as it keeps me busy but it also occupies all my free time. The latest adventure involves a nasty swarm of digging wasps which I’m having eradicated thanks to Tomlinson Bomberger. I have a number of posts that I’ve been meaning to get to however the lack of time simply hasn’t allowed.

But with the house came a certain realization to some of my motivations. Sometimes I really seem to lack motivation, but it’s usually just pure exhaustion creeping in. No longer do I get eight hours of sleep, I’m actually lucky if I get six. That coupled with work, the gym, taking care of the house, taking care of PJ, Family and Friends, I need more like 26 hours in a day instead of 24. 

Again I digress away from the real essence of this post. When I was a young kid I was exceptionally smart. I started kindergarten when I was four, after passing onto first grade I was in the highest levels of all reading, writing and math classes despite being the youngest male in my grade by a few months. The kids in my grade were all a level or two above me in all sports simply because of age.

When we started with division and multiplication, we’d have competitions for who could solve them the fastest. Nine out of 10 times I was the first to answer, and each one of those times I was right. I knew exactly what I was doing.

I excelled in all aspects of school, I was smart, I had friends, I had fun, I learned things. As we approached 5th grade we learned that things were going to change, that things would be more structured that we would have to follow instructions, keep binders and save stuff. This didn’t seem too bad to me, I thought I could make do.

As we were introduced to 5th rade we had the same friends, the same school almost the same schedule. My fifth grade teacher was Mrs. Reich. She was new to Donegal, as far as I can remember. She had this theory on how to get us ready for middle school, “workshop way” was what she called it.

Workshop way was essentially little tasks, that you completed in order, one to the next. As you completed the tasks you handed in the work and you’d be allowed to go to recess a little early, or work on some extra credit. The tasks were usually reading, doing some math problems, completing a puzzle and preparing for regular work. We still did regular class work, but this was sort of a work your way through this and follow instructions on your own.

Mrs. Reich and I didn’t get off on the right foot. I’m not really sure why, but she just didn’t like me. I had the same group of friends I had in all the other grades, yeah we caused a little trouble, but it was harmless, we did the work, we didn’t do anything too bad. Once a friend of mine and I were on the reading part of workshop way, we sat under a large table and read the books we were supposed too. Occasionally we made a funny gesture towards each other, or smiled, or laughed. Maybe said a few words, we didn’t really talk too loud. Mrs. Reich didn’t take too kindly to this, yelled at us and threatened to take us off workshop way.

Being that this way was something she invented, we had no idea what she was talking about. We continued to read for a while longer as we were supposed to and then my friend showed me a funny word in his book, I think the word was pecker. We were 10, it was funny. We laughed at the word, not too loud, there were other kids talking around the room doing other activities, but when you read, you can’t talk. Mrs. Reich got up from behind her desk, yelled at my friend and I and took us off workshop way.

Our desks were moved to the front of the room and Mrs. Reich pulled out a stack of worksheets, Math problems, reading problems, reading comprehension. The amount of work she gave us was unruly, like 2-3 days worth. We were to have the work done by the next day. My friend and I worked through the rest of the day, the remainder of the class did its regular work as we were singled out and doing these worksheets.

I took the rest of the work home with me, did as much of it as I could before I had to go to bed. I did homework from the time I got home from school until I went to bed.

The next day we handed in our work, she looked at it, looked at us, asked if we learned our lessons, and sent us to our normal desks. Mrs. Reich then proceeded to throw away all the work we just did. The work we spent an entire day on to complete.

My friend and I unpacked our backpacks, began getting ready for the day, the entire class was bustling around, talking and everything. I said something to my friend about how having all that work stunk. Mrs. Reich and her super sonic hearing heard me and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Matthew! NO TALKING! Didn’t you learn your lesson yesterday?”

In a crowded class room of about 20 students all talking all getting ready for their day, and I’m singled out. I replied, “But Mrs. Reich, everyone is talking.” She simply said, “I told you not to talk, so you again are off workshop way.”

My desk was moved to the back of the room, I was there to do work for the entire day. Twice the work she gave me the day before, all for talking when everyone else was talking. Was this fair? Definitely not.

I completed all the work, I did it right, I did it correctly, I handed it it again, scolded for making her do that. I wanted to cry, my spirit was broken. Here I am the youngest kid in the class yet probably the smartest, and I’m singled out for talking, made an example of, and that isn’t even the worst part.

Broken down, not allowed to express myself, I became a shell of what I once was. School was no longer fun, I didn’t want to go anymore, my friends avoided me because I was always getting in trouble for nothing and they didn’t want to get in trouble too.

I continued to get in trouble, not for things that I even knew were wrong. I looked the wrong way, I laughed at something, I did my math homework first because it was easiest and gave me more time to work on things I took more time to do. I was always in trouble. Finally, Mrs. Reich called my mother in for a conference.

She sat my mother down, explained what I had been up to, my mother looked at her baffled. I wasn’t an angel at home, by no means, but I wasn’t a bad kid. I did what boys do. My mother asked, why all the work? What is this work shop way? Why am I being singled out? At the end of the meeting, Mrs. Reich said to my mother, “The way Matthew behaves, he will never amount to anything.”

I was there when this happened, I was sitting in the corner finishing up all the punishment work that I had been given for breaking one of Mrs. Reich’s stupid rules. I managed to make it through the majority of the year without issues. Thanks to the birth of my little sister, and my first girl friend, I managed to change my ways and get along somehow, following the stupid rules.

Eventually Mrs. Reich went on maternity leave, but we will come back to that.

Never amount to anything, is that something you want to tell a student or a mother? How’s that for motivation. I used that motivation and breazed my way through middle school and high school. I continued to be in the highest levels of all subjects, I graduated in the top 10% of my class if not better, I had extracurriculars, I was on the school newspaper which you had to apply for. I worked, I was hired out of high school as a programmer for a local software company. Eventually I faked my way through college, making more friends than classes, I’ve held gainful employment since my graduation.

I currently do what I love, I work maybe 20 hours a week but get paid for a full 40, how’d I get that deal? I own my own home, by myself, with my dog. How’s that for not amounting to anything?

But the kicker to this story was after Mrs. Reich delivered her twins, she brought them into the class. As we were filing out of the room Mrs. Reich sat the kids in their hybrid like cradles slash car seats and put them on one of those flimsy grade school desks. I happened to be standing about three feet from this desk when I noticed both babies began kicking at the same time. As they kicked, the weight rocked the desk, sending the cradles head over heads and towards the floor.

I caught the cradle before it hit the floor. I was able to keep it from completely going head over heals and hitting the floor. I then gently placed the babies on the floor in front of their mother. She looked at me, with a condescending look, as if how dare I save her babies. I looked her in the eyes, smiled and said, “Good thing I was standing there, these desks aren’t nearly sturdy enough to handle the momentum from the cradles rocking.”

So much for not amounting to anything right?

Teaching children has to be one of the toughest jobs in the world. Day after day I have to teach one or two adults how to do simply computer tasks, yet teachers get paid less than I do to teach 20 kids something they’ve never seen before. The stress created by that has to be absolutely back breaking. But that’s no excuse for singling out one child. For making an example and ruining a year of a child’s life. I’ll never get that year back. It was one of the worst years of my life, and no doubt caused me to have a negative look towards teachers and structure and the entire educational system.

Throughout high school, I read ahead, slept through class and did the work on my own time. Same in college, I skipped class, did the reading if I felt like it and only showed up for tests. The fact that I was smarter than most kids allowed me to skate through high school very easily. I didn’t have to study, I barely had to do homework as I knew the material before it was taught.

I can’t help but think that if Mrs. Reich hadn’t ruined my 5th grad experience that I may have done even better for myself, maybe high school would have been a better experience, maybe I would have known how to truly study in college?

Thanks Mrs. Reich, despite your best efforts I made a pretty good life for myself and I hope those twins of yours that I saved from smashing their heads on the ground in that classroom have a good life too, I hope the amount to something more than their mother, maybe a teacher who cares.