Time to leave but net will appear

SUE CLARK

Chris, a former gang member from a bad part of another town, comes to

show me his first three chapters of a tale of two estranged brothers

who are on the boxing circuit in East L.A.

I am speechless when I read it. It’s good enough to send to a

publisher with the completed chapters if he has a plot outline. I

tell him about “Million Dollar Baby,” and he goes to see it.

“So sad,” he says, “how one little thing can ruin your life.” He

gets up and heads to class and gives me that young gentleman hug

around the shoulders, not pressing too hard.

“I love ya, Ms. Clark.”

During my year and a half with this natural-born writer and sponge

for knowledge, Chris N. has become a school leader. His clothes have

subtly shifted from the “bling-bling” thug look to jeans resting near

the waist and nice T-shirts.

While still decrying the white man putting down La Raza, he has

admitted that an older white lady, whom he has named “big bright

light,” has influenced a kid who would never have listened before.

Why would this older lady leave kids like this?

When I think of my retirement this year to go into private

practice, I try unsuccessfully to turn my thoughts away from the kids

that I love so much at the school. I delight in their jokes, their

gangliness, their gratefulness and firm handshake when I’ve had a

good meeting with them. How do I say good-bye to them?

What in the world will I do without a bunch of wannabe thugs who

can’t quite get tough enough in Irvine to really, for the most part,

do much but posture? What about the girl who has been off crystal

meth for six months and has helped me form an on-campus AA/NA group?

What about the Shakespeare students, whose class I sometimes

co-teach and helped create? Every quarter, I go in to fire them up

for whichever play they are going to study.

This quarter it’s “Hamlet.” Next week, I’m the opening act. I talk

about how I’d treat young Hamlet if he or his friend Ophelia were in

my private practice.

So, again, why would I leave what I love?

“Hamlet,” in fact, provided my moment of clarity this spring. I

had been financially planning a possible retirement for a couple of

years. Pension: good, unless Arnold messes with it. Few debts.

Daughter out on her own.

But one day, in my usual impulsive manner, I bought 10 student

tickets to the UCI Barclay Theater production of “Hamlet.” I had been

online buying tickets to something else and noticed there were $10

student/teacher tickets for a daytime production on May 3. We’d have

a lottery or sign up list, and I’d donate the $10 dollar tickets. A

perfect opportunity!

Or so I thought.

My first mistake was ignoring the administrative chain. I’m an

English teacher at heart, even though now I counsel. What could be

better education than to be studying the play and get the chance to

go one mile down the road and see it performed by live young adults?

Isn’t that true learning?

The principal turned me down flat.

“Nope,” he said, looking at his watch as I pleaded with him.

“Budget cuts, no money for the bus.” To top it off, we were doing the

thing I loathed most that day (and seven other tortured days) --

standardized testing.

So, eight days of beating down our students’ self-esteem

(remember, all of our kids have been kicked out of other schools),

with not two but three standard tests.

This was felt to be a much better educa- tional strategy than free

tickets to a play which they’d already studied, making them qualified

to be critics -- a teenager’s dream.

The kids could have made up that days’ testing. I would have taken

them, and no substitute required. The parents might have carpooled.

The answer was no.

Just about that time, I was offered a part-time job in private

practice. This meant that I could have the funds to open a private

practice office and work with teenagers.

No testing, no embittered teachers counting down the years and

losing patience with the students. No more dealings with those

trapped in a job where they were burned out and withdrawn.

Please know that there are only a few of those teachers at my

school. Many of our staff are professional, on fire for the kids and

believe in them. But I have to deal with the irritable teachers every

day. They are prisoners in their jobs, bitter about the kids and

longing to be free. And believe me, the kids know which ones they

are.

My heart is already breaking about saying goodbye to Chris and my

other students. But I am leaving to go and do what I really need to

do -- counsel one-on-one with young people who are struggling.

I want to leave while I love the kids, and I don’t care if I ever

see another state standard or Star test or faculty meeting.

Thirty-five years will suffice.

I will not stay and become like those embittered few. I will also

never value a state test over a live Shakespeare production.

There’s a Zen saying -- “Leap and the net will appear.” I know it

will. My moment of clarity was “Hamlet.” In the play, Polonius tells

Laertes, “To thine own self be true.” I will be.

And by the way, are there any local teachers taking their classes

to see this production? If so, I will donate those tickets to your

students. Just e-mail me.

* SUE CLARK is a Costa Mesa resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine. She can be reached at

tallteachercomcast.net.