The Dream of Teaching
The notion of teaching is a thread that has run through my life from my very early days. I grew up in a multigenerational household with my maternal grandmother, a life-long elementary school teacher. My school chums always credited my success with that fact, and it would be hard to fault them for that conclusion. Heck, I even attended her 8th-grade summer school when I was in 4th grade, although I think that was just Mama’s ploy to get at least one of her kids out of her hair for a while. I want to believe I paid Grandma back later when I helped her with her teacher recertification in her 70s. I helped my Dad with math and circuits when he attended trade school. My wife and I taught courses on marriage to high schoolers. And a Motivated Abilities Inventory I took mid-career at ExxonMobil indicated a strong affinity for teaching.
The Great Fail
So …
Some nineteen years ago, like Tina Turner, I ‘left a good job in the city’ — in my case — for a second career, teaching 9th-grade physical science. Long story short, I flunked out, and quickly. Perhaps I should have known better. Two of my brothers-in-law, who were teachers, warned me of the difficulties I would experience. And though the school’s principal thought I was doing well, I knew differently. Like Michael Jordan, who struggled to hit a major league curveball, I lacked a critical skill. In my case — classroom management. Faced with the most significant and visible failure in my life, I did not feel like I was the master of my fate or captain of my soul.
In the wake of this, I had to set aside many deeply embedded attitudes, like ‘I can do anything that I put my mind to.’ Or ‘I know better than those with experience.’ Or ‘I don’t ever need help.’ Or ‘I have to do things perfectly.’ And, especially, ‘I can make a room full of hormonally-charged adolescents pay attention.’
All of Life is Preparation and the Love of a Good Woman
There I was, at age 55, with no job, looking to my wife every bit like warmed-over death. Out of blessed inspiration, she found the job posting for this position, and two weeks later, I was an Instructor in UO Lab. My massive failure soon became a distant memory because, as Thomas Edison once said, “Every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward.”
Looking back on my resume, I can see that I spent 38 years in college and industry — and even that short shift teaching high school — unwittingly preparing for the Unit Operations Laboratory position, with stints in research, design, instrumentation, and safety. Like David, who prepared unbeknownst to himself for his bout with Goliath by protecting his father’s flocks from lions and bears, I was training all those years for this.
Passing on Some Wisdom
I lay no claim to being a wise person, but at the risk of being handed a soft drink laced with hemlock, let me offer this brief string of pearls:
A profound failure does not have to define you; it may just be a wrong attempt before moving forward.
One doesn’t always know what one is preparing for in life, so value your current engagement.
You might have a dream or a meaningful thread running through your life that you are not always consciously aware of. Do not be afraid to embrace it when it shows itself.
Never underestimate the power of a person who truly loves you and hates to see you lost and depressed.
In all of this, I see the role of Providence. However, the Providence I speak of is far more personal than that of Edison. I believe in a Providence more like David’s, a Providence who saved me from calamity more than once and a Providence to Whom I am forever indebted.
Local Indebtedness
Speaking of indebtedness, I am deeply indebted to my many faculty colleagues in chemical engineering. From day one, they have — to a person — treated me with the most extraordinary respect and kindness, and many of them have become close friends. We have taught, laughed, strategized and sympathized, bowled, and even run a marathon together. I also am indebted to the department and college leaders who have offered unwavering support and personal encouragement.
My Greatest Joy
In these past 19 years at LSU, my greatest joy has been working with, learning from, and seeing students succeed. This joy is the true joy that people with a heart for teaching seek.
To all of you who have been my students, I want to say: If I’ve mistreated any of you, I apologize. I was wrong if I ever said anything harsh about any of you. Chalk it up to a bad hair day. If I ever failed to allow you the opportunity to learn everything you wanted to know and understand, I can readily see that you survived that and thrived anyway.
Final Words
Finally, in memory of my grandmother Anna Eliza Daly, my initial inspiration, I offer you this Irish blessing:
May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
