Books, Banters, and Banana Bread

 

By G. E. Shuman

 

I have the distinct honor of being the high school English teacher at a wonderful private school here in Central Vermont. Websterville Christian Academy, (WCA for those who like abbreviations,) has taught all my kids, some of my grandkids, and hundreds of other youthful beings for more than forty years now. I recommend it highly.

The past few years, especially, of my teaching saga have been wonderful, at least for me. My students may disagree. I have genuinely enjoyed doing my best to at least keep the English language alive with the kids in my classes. (Everything can’t be emojis and lol.)  I can’t say that I have convinced those adolescents to fall in love with the classics, but they have well tolerated some snippets of Shakespeare, the tales of Twain, and poems of Poe with nary a complaint. (They also tolerate my attempts at alliteration, as did you just now.)

I do emphasize the teaching of English, but one thing that has been fun for me is when a discussion goes down the rabbit trail of differences between them, and me. The banter is just so fun for this old man. They can’t fathom how old I am, I presume. I think they are astounded at actually knowing someone who well remembers the day President Kennedy died. I do remember that day, but not the day President Lincoln died, even though some of those wide-eyed kids would probably believe that I do. Fun fact: My grandfather, whom I knew well, once had a friend who had been a friend of Lincoln, so maybe it’s not so far-fetched. Time flies, after all.

And then there’s the old chat about the moon landings. I love that one. Yes, they occurred, I must reassure the doubters, and, yes, I watched all six of those landings, live. (There really were six landings, and, yes, my family had TV back then. As a bonus I let them know that there is no ‘dark’ side of the moon. What we can’t see is the ‘far’ side. Look it up.)

Sometimes it baffles me a bit to know just how young these smart kids are, as I realize that none of my present students were even alive on 9-11 2001, and that some of their parents were still teenagers on that date. Amazing.

And then we sometimes banter briefly about music. I don’t know any of the groups that my students listen to. I hate rap because, (tell me I’m wrong,) I think it’s just talking, not singing. (Okay, get my room ready at the home.)  About the only musical group my students have heard of from my day is The Beatles, so the chats about music are short. We get back to literature quickly on those days, dang it.

You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar, they used to say, so, even though I’m not comparing high schoolers to flies, (at least not most of them,) I usually try to sweeten classes up a bit for them with supermarket donuts or mini-muffins or something. I do want to be their fav teacher, even if I must buy it. (Kidding… sorta.)

All told, I believe the kids learn from me. I know I learn things from them. One of those things is simply that, no matter what generation you’re from, we’re all here for about the same stretch of years, we all have similar wants and needs, and most of us have a sweet tooth. Tonight, I’m baking banana bread to help a big quiz go down a little easier tomorrow morning. I love those kids!