Reflection #29 (Only 1047 to go!): The Common Enemy On Christmas morning, the homily at mass wasn't very inspiring... rather perfunctory. That’s not particularly uncommon, since there are a lot of components that go into giving a good speech. I’m not sure that I could do better. To my credit, I do try to hang in there; it’s not always easy...especially when the design on the wall behind the alter is a parabola. I find myself trying to derive the equation of that parabola based on my estimate of its dimensions. Oops! My mind wandered from my original topic.
The point of the homily was that materialism is the enemy of our spirituality. For the sake of “full disclosure”, I agree that it is too easy to confuse, what we want with what we need. Even in these modern times, many who view themselves as defenders of the faith (not necessarily Catholics) will “buy indulgences” by contributing to their church, while accruing massive wealth, ignoring, and sometimes at the expense, of those who have little.
Father’s homily took me back to “youthful” times, when we were warned about the enemies of the church, usually other religions. I can recall Sister Agnes, a truly lovely lady, telling us that it was sinful to go to the YMCA because it promoted a different religion. Imagine my confusion when I came to Ignatius and Fr. Maurice Meyers would take students swimming at the “Y”. (Oh, those Jesuits do march to their own drummer.) The same motivational device was, and is, used in politics and coaching. Identify, or in some cases create, an common enemy and demonize them...the more the better.
At Loyola U., circa 1957, we were trained in “defending the Faith”, with the reward of going straight to Heaven. Not a bad deal! Unfortunately, we were mostly schooled in how to deal with religions that we didn’t really come in contact with. I can tell you that if I had ever encountered a Zoroastrian proselytizing in my neighborhood, he would have taken a real beating..., verbally of course. We never got to religions like Lutheranism and Mormons; it was only a one semester course.
Politics is too risky to mention, but it’s not hard to spot...especially coming from the party you don’t agree with.
Sports, on the other hand is a hot-bed of this device. During my “innocent” days (1969-72), I had the misfortune to be appointed Athletic Director...a job that I was not trained for, and probably not smart enough for, but that’s another story. I definitely was not smart enough to turn down the job when it was offered. In my defense, when the Fr. John Reilly "offered" you a job, you generally said, “Yes, Father.”
Back to the point. An iconic coach of that time told his athletes that I was one of the many enemies in their life. I wasn’t alone; the previous athletic director was brought to tears by such accusations. I may be exaggerating for dramatic effect but I’m reasonably sure that I was accused of everything from being the cause most serious illnesses to the rise of Communism, all the while being the major obstacle in their journey to being successful. Again, in the interest of full disclosure, I wasn’t responsible for any of those. I really didn’t like being that target, but I guess it came with the job.
See. Father, I do listen to the homilies, but I’m not sure I always get the exact same message that you were trying to impart. Happy New Year!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Reflection #28 (Only 1048 to go!): On Giving Thanks
Give thanks for what you have. If I were a different person, I might stop right there and close the blog, but being me, I proceed.
On Thanksgiving, I gave each of my kids a wooden sign that said, "Be thankful". As I reflected on the complexity of that simple statement, I realized that our ability to do so is deeply interwoven with all that we are...our family, our friends and what standard we use to measure our blessings.
Being thankful is really a choice that we can make or not make. A few years ago, I read a quote whose author, regrettably, I can’t recall. It read, “True wealth is not determined by how much we have, but by how little we need.” We’ve all heard of the artist who, having been born without arms, learned to paint by holding the brush with his/her toes. When I was a youngster, a popular dancer on TV variety shows (the precursor to “American Idol” and “Dancing With The Stars”) was a man named “Peg-leg Bates”, for obvious reasons. I suspect that most of us would find such infirmities limiting; I know that I would.
Also intertwined with the level of gratitude we feel in our life is how we determine whether our life has been “ successful”. This, I’m sure, is more likely to be done by old-timers like me.
In my case, I'm inclined to be introspective, and retirement, along with my chosen activity...wood-scrolling, has given me the time to reflect. One result has been to formulate an overly simplified view of success. Actually, I have concluded that "success" itself is a hypothetical construct*. (*Look it up)
When I was a young man, “success” was defined by whether my group of 16-year-old athletes could put a ball in the basket more often than some other fellows group could. (Frankly, in retrospect that seems rather silly.)
One of Frank Raispis’ favorite sayings is, “You pays your dime, and you takes your chances.” That’s Frank’s version of, “It (Life) is what it is”.
A year or so ago, I saw an alum who had retired from an executive position in a corporation to work for the Chicago Food Depository. He saw that as being more important than simply accruing more wealth.
More recently, Bob Gabric said that he isn't concerned about being acknowledged for his efforts as a coach and teacher because he wasn't doing it for the appreciation he might receive. He did it because that's what he chose to do with his life.
All three of those men have lead very successful their lives. They do not measure their success by their wealth or the perceived success of others. They’re not in competition with anyone else; only themselves.
Granted, being a better teacher, businessman or coach may have given them a measuring stick to determine their progress, but that was just a tool, not a goal.
By the way, THANK YOU!
On Thanksgiving, I gave each of my kids a wooden sign that said, "Be thankful". As I reflected on the complexity of that simple statement, I realized that our ability to do so is deeply interwoven with all that we are...our family, our friends and what standard we use to measure our blessings.
Being thankful is really a choice that we can make or not make. A few years ago, I read a quote whose author, regrettably, I can’t recall. It read, “True wealth is not determined by how much we have, but by how little we need.” We’ve all heard of the artist who, having been born without arms, learned to paint by holding the brush with his/her toes. When I was a youngster, a popular dancer on TV variety shows (the precursor to “American Idol” and “Dancing With The Stars”) was a man named “Peg-leg Bates”, for obvious reasons. I suspect that most of us would find such infirmities limiting; I know that I would.
Also intertwined with the level of gratitude we feel in our life is how we determine whether our life has been “ successful”. This, I’m sure, is more likely to be done by old-timers like me.
In my case, I'm inclined to be introspective, and retirement, along with my chosen activity...wood-scrolling, has given me the time to reflect. One result has been to formulate an overly simplified view of success. Actually, I have concluded that "success" itself is a hypothetical construct*. (*Look it up)
When I was a young man, “success” was defined by whether my group of 16-year-old athletes could put a ball in the basket more often than some other fellows group could. (Frankly, in retrospect that seems rather silly.)
One of Frank Raispis’ favorite sayings is, “You pays your dime, and you takes your chances.” That’s Frank’s version of, “It (Life) is what it is”.
A year or so ago, I saw an alum who had retired from an executive position in a corporation to work for the Chicago Food Depository. He saw that as being more important than simply accruing more wealth.
More recently, Bob Gabric said that he isn't concerned about being acknowledged for his efforts as a coach and teacher because he wasn't doing it for the appreciation he might receive. He did it because that's what he chose to do with his life.
All three of those men have lead very successful their lives. They do not measure their success by their wealth or the perceived success of others. They’re not in competition with anyone else; only themselves.
Granted, being a better teacher, businessman or coach may have given them a measuring stick to determine their progress, but that was just a tool, not a goal.
By the way, THANK YOU!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Reflection #27 (Only 1049 to go!): Short Story Made Long
Preface: This is the story of why Saint Ignatius' mascot is the wolf.
Parts 1 and 2 have absolutely nothing to do with mascots or wolves.
Part 1: My "bucket list"...sort of.
While I have always loved teaching, there were things that I wished that I’d have time for...but didn't; e.g., playing the trombone, practicing tap dancing, reading all the "classics", and so on. I've often mused about the possibility that there may be people who might have been the world's best at some activity, if they had been exposed to it. Perhaps the world's greatest baseball player might have been born in the outback of Australia, but never had the chance to play...whatever.
Might I have had some latent talent that would surface if I had the time to pursue it? It turns out, NO!
Of all of the grand schemes and aspirations that I envisioned, the only one that I stayed with was scroll sawing; i.e., cutting images of things or words out of thin pieces of wood to make objet d’art . Having seen what some people are capable of, I'm pretty sure that I'm not only NOT the world's greatest scroll-sawer. I'm pretty sure that I'm not even in the top 50%, but I do love it. On some level, I think that I have the soul of an artist. (Disclaimer: Having the “soul of an artist” is not the same as having the “talent of an artist“.)
Part 2: Ornaments
When I practiced my new-found hobby to make some Christmas ornaments for members of the Development Staff a few years ago, John Chandler asked me if I would make 100 for a subset (math-speak) of the Ignatius community. So each of the last 5 years, I’ve made Christmas ornaments for the school. This year's ornament is of a wolf gazing up at the star that announced Jesus' birth. Along with the ornament, I’ve included an explanation of the significance of the "wolf" to Ignatius.
Part 3: Finally...the answer to the Ignatius Wolf question
On the crest of the Jesuits, there is the image of two wolves standing on either side of a kettle. The name "Loyola", as in Saint Ignatius of Loyola, is derived from a contraction of the Spanish words for "wolf" and "pot": "lobo y olla". The official explanation for their presence is that wolf stands for "nobility" and pot represents "generosity".
Very early in my career, I heard that there is a "story behind the story". Why those symbols? Ignatius was raised in the Basque region of north-eastern Spain, which was primarily a sheep-raising area. The story goes that when wolves would come around and threaten the sheep, the shepherds would boil the innards of dead sheep. Since the smell of boiling sheep would be stronger and more alluring than the live sheep, it drew the wolves away from the flock. Somehow, that doesn’t make the wolves seem all that noble, but who am I to judge.
There is also a version that says when the wolves went to the kettle, the shepherds would “smite” them with clubs. Personally, I doubt that version...but, hey, that’s me.
Parts 1 and 2 have absolutely nothing to do with mascots or wolves.
Part 1: My "bucket list"...sort of.
While I have always loved teaching, there were things that I wished that I’d have time for...but didn't; e.g., playing the trombone, practicing tap dancing, reading all the "classics", and so on. I've often mused about the possibility that there may be people who might have been the world's best at some activity, if they had been exposed to it. Perhaps the world's greatest baseball player might have been born in the outback of Australia, but never had the chance to play...whatever.
Might I have had some latent talent that would surface if I had the time to pursue it? It turns out, NO!
Of all of the grand schemes and aspirations that I envisioned, the only one that I stayed with was scroll sawing; i.e., cutting images of things or words out of thin pieces of wood to make objet d’art . Having seen what some people are capable of, I'm pretty sure that I'm not only NOT the world's greatest scroll-sawer. I'm pretty sure that I'm not even in the top 50%, but I do love it. On some level, I think that I have the soul of an artist. (Disclaimer: Having the “soul of an artist” is not the same as having the “talent of an artist“.)
Part 2: Ornaments
When I practiced my new-found hobby to make some Christmas ornaments for members of the Development Staff a few years ago, John Chandler asked me if I would make 100 for a subset (math-speak) of the Ignatius community. So each of the last 5 years, I’ve made Christmas ornaments for the school. This year's ornament is of a wolf gazing up at the star that announced Jesus' birth. Along with the ornament, I’ve included an explanation of the significance of the "wolf" to Ignatius.
Part 3: Finally...the answer to the Ignatius Wolf question
On the crest of the Jesuits, there is the image of two wolves standing on either side of a kettle. The name "Loyola", as in Saint Ignatius of Loyola, is derived from a contraction of the Spanish words for "wolf" and "pot": "lobo y olla". The official explanation for their presence is that wolf stands for "nobility" and pot represents "generosity".
Very early in my career, I heard that there is a "story behind the story". Why those symbols? Ignatius was raised in the Basque region of north-eastern Spain, which was primarily a sheep-raising area. The story goes that when wolves would come around and threaten the sheep, the shepherds would boil the innards of dead sheep. Since the smell of boiling sheep would be stronger and more alluring than the live sheep, it drew the wolves away from the flock. Somehow, that doesn’t make the wolves seem all that noble, but who am I to judge.
There is also a version that says when the wolves went to the kettle, the shepherds would “smite” them with clubs. Personally, I doubt that version...but, hey, that’s me.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Reflection #26 (Only 1050 to go!): ...And Then There Were Women
First of all, a shout out to the alumni from the classes of '66, '71, '76 and '81 who came to the reunion on Saturday (Oct. 15). I hope that you all had a good time. I know from my own experience, and episodes of "Everybody loves Raymond" and "Frazer", reunions can be scary events. Regarding these reunions: first, when the class of '66 graduated, they were only 2/3 my age; now they are 7/8 my age. They're catching up. Zeno's Paradox tells us that they will never catch up. (once a math teacher,...)
Secondly, the class of '81 was the only class at this reunion that had "GIRLS" that were alums. That actually prompted my next "Reminiscence".
In 1978, Father Joe Bowen was dealing with the question of whether Ignatius should go "co-ed". In retrospect, it wasn't the adventure (or in some minds, the "misadventure") that we thought that it might be at that time. Since then, Loyola Academy, Marist, Fenwick, Mother Guerin and De La Salle have all gone co-ed, or, in some cases, a variation thereof. The only school that I'm aware of that went coed before Ignatius was Nazareth Academy in Lagrange Park.
While Fr. Bowen appointed an advisory committee to debate the issue, he was the one that made the final decision. My concern was that we might announce that we were accepting girls, only to have no girls show up. As it turned out that was not the case. In fact, what surprised me was that several alumni, who expressed their opposition to the move, sent their daughters to SICP when the decision was finalized.
I wasn't sure what adjustments I might have to make with girls present. While I had attended a coed Chicago Public High School, Senn, my high school teaching experience was 19 years in an all-boys school. It turned out not to be difficult at all. I think that one advantage was that I had three daughters, two of whom were close to entering high school.
Within the faculty, there was a large increase in women teachers...5 in 1978, 14 in 1979. This change occurred in the midst of the "women's rights" movement, and I found myself in uncomfortable conversations with some female teachers. Things like why the Ladies' washrooms should say, "Women", because "Ladys was "condescending" and "pejorative", or that boys were more aggressive than girls because our culture demanded that boys be given toy guns and girls be given dolls. I won’t even mention the “dust up” over the fact that the Lords’ Prayer starts, “Our Father...”.
Honestly, I felt good about the change, and now it's not even an issue. I did have to slightly adjust my methods of discipline. Boys will react differently to certain disciplinary methods when in the presence of female peers than when in the presence of only boys. I don’t know what disciplinary approach was in an all-girls schools, but I learned to adjust when girls/women/ladies arrived. (For the record, by 1979 “hitting” or any form of physical contact, boys or girls, was no longer acceptable, and I know, as a father, I would not have wanted my girls touched as a form of punishment...especially by a man.)
There were other changes as a result of going coed. Washrooms had to be added and modified, and the gym locker room had to be divided.
One all-girls school, which closed soon after 1979, blamed their closure on Ignatius going coed, but that doesn’t explain why girls schools like Regina and Trinity have flourished after their so-called brother schools accepted girls. Did going coed save Ignatius? My assessment is, “No!” I think Ignatius was well on its way to recovery following the difficulties of the mid-70's, but there's no denying that it speeded the recovery.
More on this subject later.
Secondly, the class of '81 was the only class at this reunion that had "GIRLS" that were alums. That actually prompted my next "Reminiscence".
In 1978, Father Joe Bowen was dealing with the question of whether Ignatius should go "co-ed". In retrospect, it wasn't the adventure (or in some minds, the "misadventure") that we thought that it might be at that time. Since then, Loyola Academy, Marist, Fenwick, Mother Guerin and De La Salle have all gone co-ed, or, in some cases, a variation thereof. The only school that I'm aware of that went coed before Ignatius was Nazareth Academy in Lagrange Park.
While Fr. Bowen appointed an advisory committee to debate the issue, he was the one that made the final decision. My concern was that we might announce that we were accepting girls, only to have no girls show up. As it turned out that was not the case. In fact, what surprised me was that several alumni, who expressed their opposition to the move, sent their daughters to SICP when the decision was finalized.
I wasn't sure what adjustments I might have to make with girls present. While I had attended a coed Chicago Public High School, Senn, my high school teaching experience was 19 years in an all-boys school. It turned out not to be difficult at all. I think that one advantage was that I had three daughters, two of whom were close to entering high school.
Within the faculty, there was a large increase in women teachers...5 in 1978, 14 in 1979. This change occurred in the midst of the "women's rights" movement, and I found myself in uncomfortable conversations with some female teachers. Things like why the Ladies' washrooms should say, "Women", because "Ladys was "condescending" and "pejorative", or that boys were more aggressive than girls because our culture demanded that boys be given toy guns and girls be given dolls. I won’t even mention the “dust up” over the fact that the Lords’ Prayer starts, “Our Father...”.
Honestly, I felt good about the change, and now it's not even an issue. I did have to slightly adjust my methods of discipline. Boys will react differently to certain disciplinary methods when in the presence of female peers than when in the presence of only boys. I don’t know what disciplinary approach was in an all-girls schools, but I learned to adjust when girls/women/ladies arrived. (For the record, by 1979 “hitting” or any form of physical contact, boys or girls, was no longer acceptable, and I know, as a father, I would not have wanted my girls touched as a form of punishment...especially by a man.)
There were other changes as a result of going coed. Washrooms had to be added and modified, and the gym locker room had to be divided.
One all-girls school, which closed soon after 1979, blamed their closure on Ignatius going coed, but that doesn’t explain why girls schools like Regina and Trinity have flourished after their so-called brother schools accepted girls. Did going coed save Ignatius? My assessment is, “No!” I think Ignatius was well on its way to recovery following the difficulties of the mid-70's, but there's no denying that it speeded the recovery.
More on this subject later.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Reflection #25 (Only 1051 to go!): Odds and Ends
First, I'd like to thank those of you who extended their congratulations regarding my 50th anniversary. I received several on Facebook, which I read through the courtesy of my daughter, JoAnn. I'm not a member (or whatever people on Facebook are called), but I thank you. Besides alumni, that group included one of my wife's cousins...one of the O'Malley girls, don'cha know. (That sounds better if you read it with a brogue from County Mayo.)
Additionally, I received congrats from Chris McNamara and Tony D'Sousa. I mention them separately because they were both from the class of '92, and they were the inspiration for my blog regarding Mr. K*. Again, thank you. (*Mr. K = Ray Kizelevicus. One of these days, Ray is going to write one of these blogs. He says it'll be about "THE WALK for IGNATIUS".)
Secondly (or B), earlier this week, my wife and I spent a most enjoyable day visiting with a couple of great and dear old friends...Bob Gabric and his wife, Pat. Most alumni who can find my blog are likely to be too young to have known Bob; he left Ignatius and coaching in 1979. But he was the varsity basketball coach at St. Ignatius from 1968 to 1979. I was his assistant and the sophomore coach for the first nine years of that stint.
I think that it's safe to say Bob was a mentor and inspiration to Ron Cygan, Jim Luzzi and me. I have mentioned my admiration for him in previous blogs. Judging from the number of his former players who stay in contact with him, or ask about him, I dare say that Ronny, Jim and I are not alone in our admiration.
Anyway Bob and Pat have been retired for quite a few years and enjoying the good life in Arizona. They are both in great shape and very active in their community and parish. Bob is still active in athletic activities, mostly golf. I should probably also add that Bob gave me permission to pass along his email address to whoever is interested. I will only do that on a one-by-one basis. If anyone wants to contact him via email, you can contact me at james.spalding@ignatius.org, and I'll send it to you by "reply".
What we both found interesting was that, though we've only seen each other a half-dozen times since he and Pat left the Chicago area, we picked up our conversation/friendship as if we where chatting following basketball practice in the '70's. I think that is the sign of true friendship. I also was fascinated by how similar our views of life are after all that time apart. Surely, we must both be right!!!
Also, for those of you that might be interested, Bob highly recommended the book Me and Red, or it might be Red and Me, written by Bill Russell. Bob said it was well worth the read.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Reflection #24 (Only 1052 to go!): The Art of Being Smart
I have no illusions about my own intelligence; in the realm of "smart" people, I admit to being an outsider looking in. One the other hand, one of the two smartest people that I've ever known personally is the recently retired physics and math teacher, John Balaban. (Y'all can argue over who is the other one!) John is also a friend of mine, but there were a couple of reasons why I was hesitant to write this blog. It bordered on being POLITICAL (yikes!), and that is a can of worms into which I choose not to climb.
My true purpose here is to express my admiration for how John uses his intelligence. Being at Ignatius has put me in close proximity to a large number of smart people...not only students but colleagues. A common, but not universal, trait is that many equate intelligence with truth, and become dismissive of those who disagree. Truth to them is about who wins the debate, not objective reality. At this point, of course, the argument starts about "what is objective reality"...I think that's called "epistemology". (Don’t mess with a Loyola U. grad when it comes to the names of philosophy courses.)
John seeks what is right, true and just, but he continues to observe reality, modifying, confirming or rejecting his opinions. If John doesn’t think much of the “king’s new clothes“, he’ll say so. (Reference Hans Christian Anderson)
John, and his wife, Jane, are strong advocates for environmental issues. As a teacher, he would regularly take groups of students out into the "wilds" of north-eastern Illinois to clean up river banks and the like. On careers days at school, he would lecture on the value of preserving the wetlands and savannas. (Until I heard John’s lecture, I thought savannas were just cities in Georgia.)
He and Jane were so committed to the cause that, in 1997, they received The Nature Conservancy President's Stewardship Award in Washington, D.C., and locally, they received a stewardship award from the Chicago Wilderness and Audubon Society.
My point, however, is that John evaluates his principles, reconsidering their effectiveness. One day years ago, John and I were talking about "cabbages and kings", and he said that those who are 100% against nuclear power as a source of energy wouldn't be very happy if that source suddenly disappeared. As I prepared to write this blog, I asked John if he still felt the same in the wake of what happened in Japan this year. The response that I got could easily have been a whole blog by itself. The essence of his response was that civilization has to deal realistically with factors as they are, not some idealistic view of the way we wish it were.
To sum up, John uses his "smarts" correctly, blending his observations with his intelligence to make good decisions. Afterwards, he critiques that decision.
Finally, John was a heck of a teacher. The Mathematic Teachers’ Association awarded him the prestigious Wagner Award for excellence in teaching. Watching John prepare Ignatius’ brightest math students for a math competition was a joy to behold. On the other hand, Darcy Regan (’84) identified him as her favorite teacher because of his willingness to help students who didn‘t happen to be the other smartest person I know.
Congratulations, John, on a life well-spent...so far.
My true purpose here is to express my admiration for how John uses his intelligence. Being at Ignatius has put me in close proximity to a large number of smart people...not only students but colleagues. A common, but not universal, trait is that many equate intelligence with truth, and become dismissive of those who disagree. Truth to them is about who wins the debate, not objective reality. At this point, of course, the argument starts about "what is objective reality"...I think that's called "epistemology". (Don’t mess with a Loyola U. grad when it comes to the names of philosophy courses.)
John seeks what is right, true and just, but he continues to observe reality, modifying, confirming or rejecting his opinions. If John doesn’t think much of the “king’s new clothes“, he’ll say so. (Reference Hans Christian Anderson)
John, and his wife, Jane, are strong advocates for environmental issues. As a teacher, he would regularly take groups of students out into the "wilds" of north-eastern Illinois to clean up river banks and the like. On careers days at school, he would lecture on the value of preserving the wetlands and savannas. (Until I heard John’s lecture, I thought savannas were just cities in Georgia.)
He and Jane were so committed to the cause that, in 1997, they received The Nature Conservancy President's Stewardship Award in Washington, D.C., and locally, they received a stewardship award from the Chicago Wilderness and Audubon Society.
My point, however, is that John evaluates his principles, reconsidering their effectiveness. One day years ago, John and I were talking about "cabbages and kings", and he said that those who are 100% against nuclear power as a source of energy wouldn't be very happy if that source suddenly disappeared. As I prepared to write this blog, I asked John if he still felt the same in the wake of what happened in Japan this year. The response that I got could easily have been a whole blog by itself. The essence of his response was that civilization has to deal realistically with factors as they are, not some idealistic view of the way we wish it were.
To sum up, John uses his "smarts" correctly, blending his observations with his intelligence to make good decisions. Afterwards, he critiques that decision.
Finally, John was a heck of a teacher. The Mathematic Teachers’ Association awarded him the prestigious Wagner Award for excellence in teaching. Watching John prepare Ignatius’ brightest math students for a math competition was a joy to behold. On the other hand, Darcy Regan (’84) identified him as her favorite teacher because of his willingness to help students who didn‘t happen to be the other smartest person I know.
Congratulations, John, on a life well-spent...so far.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Reflection #22 (Only 1054 to go!): My Life Is "Golden"
I am posting this blog on September 5, 2011 to celebrate. While most of America is celebrating Labor Day, I will be celebrating the 50th anniversary of the day that I started working at Saint Ignatius. Back then, it was called Saint Ignatius High School.
It has been a most wonderful and rewarding experience. Whether it was the Hand of God or just dumb luck, I can only say a prayer of thanksgiving for my good fortune. Officially, I retired 7 years ago, but I'm really only semi-retired, since I continue to teach summer school, participate in alumni-related events as well as a host of other school related activities.
I have had the privilege of teaching and coaching outstanding young people, and interacting with their parents. I've been blessed to have worked with the likes of Pat O'Mara, Frank Raispis, Bob Gabric, Fr. Mark Link and countless other talented and inspiring colleagues. By shear dint of their personalities and commitment, I was constantly motivated to do my best.
My relationship with Saint Ignatius has been more than a job. It has truly defined my life. Most of my best friends are teachers, or former teachers, at Ignatius. The greatest blessing for me is that Ignatius was where I met the lady who became my wife. Together, Mary Jo and I have raised four terrific children (all Ignatius graduates, I hasten to add), and now we are grandma and grandpa to the 8 most beautiful and intelligent grandchildren God ever put on this Earth. (That's not just an opinion; that's a fact.) They're also great athletes. I'm just saying!
SUFFICE IT TO SAY, I am proud of having been involved in the history of this wonderful school...through the good times and the bad. I have felt blessed beyond anything I would have had a right to expect. Today, I will celebrate this anniversary by sitting on my patio with my wife, enjoying a grilled hamburger and a beer...probably a Guinness. Do I know how to party or what!!!
Ohh! Wait! I think the coals are ready. Happy Labor Day!
It has been a most wonderful and rewarding experience. Whether it was the Hand of God or just dumb luck, I can only say a prayer of thanksgiving for my good fortune. Officially, I retired 7 years ago, but I'm really only semi-retired, since I continue to teach summer school, participate in alumni-related events as well as a host of other school related activities.
I have had the privilege of teaching and coaching outstanding young people, and interacting with their parents. I've been blessed to have worked with the likes of Pat O'Mara, Frank Raispis, Bob Gabric, Fr. Mark Link and countless other talented and inspiring colleagues. By shear dint of their personalities and commitment, I was constantly motivated to do my best.
My relationship with Saint Ignatius has been more than a job. It has truly defined my life. Most of my best friends are teachers, or former teachers, at Ignatius. The greatest blessing for me is that Ignatius was where I met the lady who became my wife. Together, Mary Jo and I have raised four terrific children (all Ignatius graduates, I hasten to add), and now we are grandma and grandpa to the 8 most beautiful and intelligent grandchildren God ever put on this Earth. (That's not just an opinion; that's a fact.) They're also great athletes. I'm just saying!
SUFFICE IT TO SAY, I am proud of having been involved in the history of this wonderful school...through the good times and the bad. I have felt blessed beyond anything I would have had a right to expect. Today, I will celebrate this anniversary by sitting on my patio with my wife, enjoying a grilled hamburger and a beer...probably a Guinness. Do I know how to party or what!!!
Ohh! Wait! I think the coals are ready. Happy Labor Day!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Blog #21: Only 1055 to go: Driving the bus
#21: Driving the Bus
I have often told new teachers, "The teacher who can teach and drive the school bus is more valuable than the one who can only teach". It’s harder to replace the person who has more than one skill. Years ago, the running gag among the staff regarding one of the members of the maintenance crew was that he'd never be fired because he was the only one who knew how to work the furnace.
That brings me to my real point. I've never considered myself a cornerstone; I'm more like mortar that “fills in” the gaps where needed. I believe that I used this same metaphor, when I wrote about Ray Kizelevicus.
During a short hiatus from coaching in the late '70's, on two different occasions, I was asked to coach a team that was coachless. Both times, I teamed up with another teacher to fill the gap. The first time, the 1976 sophomore baseball season was in danger of being cancelled because there was no coach. Fr. Stan Wisniewski and I had agreed, independent of one another, to coach if there was another adult to help. I had coached the sophomores from 1963 until 1969 and, while Father wasn't much of an athlete, he loved baseball, and he was more than happy to do the clerical work while I hit fungoes and pitched batting practice.
We were the quintessential “odd couple“. A 5’6” heavyset priest, and a slender (just kidding) math teacher...but he and I had been friends from the early '60's. I had always respected him for his intelligence and spirit; he had always enjoyed listening to me speak because he found it a challenge, when I started a sentence, to try to guess where I was going with it. Really we just liked each other and we had a similar sense of humor. Father passed away several years ago, and he is one of the many former colleagues that have gone to their final reward that I miss these days.
The second time that I was pressed into service as a coach was in 1979. The tennis team was without a coach, and John Chandler and I were asked to fill in. That was a little more daunting; neither John nor I had any background in tennis. Our philosophy was pretty simple: make sure the players had a place to practice and were able to get there, make sure that we had the equipment we needed, and make sure we got the players to the matches.
Astonishingly, Ignatius won the Catholic League Championship, and we had a doubles team that ended up 6th in the state. Heaven only knows how far they would have gone if they had coaches who knew which end of the racket to hold. Truth be told, John and I were blessed with some outstanding players. The first and second singles players were Russ Elderkin and Santiago Alva respectively, both high ranking players, and the rest of the lineup was talented beyond anything that we had a right to expect.
>An interesting sidelight, from our point of view, was that John and I were summarily released as tennis coaches at the end of the season, but it was legitimate. Rich Kehoe, who relocated from Loyola Academy to SICP, took over the tennis program and he was a bona fide tennis coach.
I have often told new teachers, "The teacher who can teach and drive the school bus is more valuable than the one who can only teach". It’s harder to replace the person who has more than one skill. Years ago, the running gag among the staff regarding one of the members of the maintenance crew was that he'd never be fired because he was the only one who knew how to work the furnace.
That brings me to my real point. I've never considered myself a cornerstone; I'm more like mortar that “fills in” the gaps where needed. I believe that I used this same metaphor, when I wrote about Ray Kizelevicus.
During a short hiatus from coaching in the late '70's, on two different occasions, I was asked to coach a team that was coachless. Both times, I teamed up with another teacher to fill the gap. The first time, the 1976 sophomore baseball season was in danger of being cancelled because there was no coach. Fr. Stan Wisniewski and I had agreed, independent of one another, to coach if there was another adult to help. I had coached the sophomores from 1963 until 1969 and, while Father wasn't much of an athlete, he loved baseball, and he was more than happy to do the clerical work while I hit fungoes and pitched batting practice.
We were the quintessential “odd couple“. A 5’6” heavyset priest, and a slender (just kidding) math teacher...but he and I had been friends from the early '60's. I had always respected him for his intelligence and spirit; he had always enjoyed listening to me speak because he found it a challenge, when I started a sentence, to try to guess where I was going with it. Really we just liked each other and we had a similar sense of humor. Father passed away several years ago, and he is one of the many former colleagues that have gone to their final reward that I miss these days.
The second time that I was pressed into service as a coach was in 1979. The tennis team was without a coach, and John Chandler and I were asked to fill in. That was a little more daunting; neither John nor I had any background in tennis. Our philosophy was pretty simple: make sure the players had a place to practice and were able to get there, make sure that we had the equipment we needed, and make sure we got the players to the matches.
Astonishingly, Ignatius won the Catholic League Championship, and we had a doubles team that ended up 6th in the state. Heaven only knows how far they would have gone if they had coaches who knew which end of the racket to hold. Truth be told, John and I were blessed with some outstanding players. The first and second singles players were Russ Elderkin and Santiago Alva respectively, both high ranking players, and the rest of the lineup was talented beyond anything that we had a right to expect.
>An interesting sidelight, from our point of view, was that John and I were summarily released as tennis coaches at the end of the season, but it was legitimate. Rich Kehoe, who relocated from Loyola Academy to SICP, took over the tennis program and he was a bona fide tennis coach.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Reflection #20 (Only 1056 to go!): A Turning Point(Pt. 1)
Reflection #20 (Only 1056 to go!): A Turning Point(Pt. 1)
The Saturday evening of Dec. 18, 1976 at the Auditorium Theater was a magical evening. Bob Hope did a benefit performance for Saint Ignatius College Prep, entitled "Hope For Ignatius". Most of the time, when the phrase "magical" is used, it refers to a prom or a concert that is particularly well-done. I have to say that this event had a greater element of magic than just being good.
In mid-December of 1976, not only did Bob Hope do a benefit for us, but he brought Andy Williams and Dyan Cannon along. Williams was a big name singer in his own right, and host/star of his own variety TV show. Hope had talked him into appearing that night, and Williams was the headliner for the benefit the following year. Diane Cannon was a beautiful multi-talented actress who had earned several academy award nominations, but was probably more well-known for having been married to Cary Grant.
To put it mildly, Ignatius was going through a rough patch financially at that time. I am not privy to all of the details or causes (although I have some thoughts on the matter), but, as I understand it, we were not far from closing. As tuition necessarily increased, the enrollment dropped. If one looks at the class pictures for the years of the late '70's, the size of the graduating classes were significantly smaller than before or after those years.
I’ve heard a few variations about how the benefit came to be, but essentially the story seems to be that Father Bowen, the president of Ignatius, had placed an ad in a magazine saying that St. Ignatius was “looking for an angel”. At about the same time that Hope saw the ad, he received a letter from Father Bowen asking for help by way of a benefit on behalf of the school.
Hope contacted Irv Kupcinet, the very popular newspaper columnist of the time, and asked him if we were worth the effort. Kup vouched for us, and, in fact, was the MC for the event. Mayor Daley (the 1st) was the “honorary chairman” of the event. For younger readers, I'm not sure that Bob Hope's style would have been all that entertaining, but for people of my generation and older (Raispis), he was great.
Now why do I say that this night was "magical" beyond just being a great show? Because the fortunes of the school seemed to turn on that event. Not only did the concert bring in (by Ignatius' standards) a lot of money, but the whole atmosphere of the place changed. Suddenly there was an optimism and new-found spirit that had been dwindling at that time.
Many will argue Ignatius going co-ed was the critical turn-around moment, and I won’t deny its impact, but from the moment of the “Bob Hope Benefit”, the energy of the school jumped dramatically. We had real traction. All of a sudden the school had vitality. I truly wonder if we would have survived until the year young ladies were accepted (1979) into the school, had it not been for that “magical” night.
The Saturday evening of Dec. 18, 1976 at the Auditorium Theater was a magical evening. Bob Hope did a benefit performance for Saint Ignatius College Prep, entitled "Hope For Ignatius". Most of the time, when the phrase "magical" is used, it refers to a prom or a concert that is particularly well-done. I have to say that this event had a greater element of magic than just being good.
In mid-December of 1976, not only did Bob Hope do a benefit for us, but he brought Andy Williams and Dyan Cannon along. Williams was a big name singer in his own right, and host/star of his own variety TV show. Hope had talked him into appearing that night, and Williams was the headliner for the benefit the following year. Diane Cannon was a beautiful multi-talented actress who had earned several academy award nominations, but was probably more well-known for having been married to Cary Grant.
To put it mildly, Ignatius was going through a rough patch financially at that time. I am not privy to all of the details or causes (although I have some thoughts on the matter), but, as I understand it, we were not far from closing. As tuition necessarily increased, the enrollment dropped. If one looks at the class pictures for the years of the late '70's, the size of the graduating classes were significantly smaller than before or after those years.
I’ve heard a few variations about how the benefit came to be, but essentially the story seems to be that Father Bowen, the president of Ignatius, had placed an ad in a magazine saying that St. Ignatius was “looking for an angel”. At about the same time that Hope saw the ad, he received a letter from Father Bowen asking for help by way of a benefit on behalf of the school.
Hope contacted Irv Kupcinet, the very popular newspaper columnist of the time, and asked him if we were worth the effort. Kup vouched for us, and, in fact, was the MC for the event. Mayor Daley (the 1st) was the “honorary chairman” of the event. For younger readers, I'm not sure that Bob Hope's style would have been all that entertaining, but for people of my generation and older (Raispis), he was great.
Now why do I say that this night was "magical" beyond just being a great show? Because the fortunes of the school seemed to turn on that event. Not only did the concert bring in (by Ignatius' standards) a lot of money, but the whole atmosphere of the place changed. Suddenly there was an optimism and new-found spirit that had been dwindling at that time.
Many will argue Ignatius going co-ed was the critical turn-around moment, and I won’t deny its impact, but from the moment of the “Bob Hope Benefit”, the energy of the school jumped dramatically. We had real traction. All of a sudden the school had vitality. I truly wonder if we would have survived until the year young ladies were accepted (1979) into the school, had it not been for that “magical” night.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Reflection # 19 (Only 1057 to go!) : Playing Politics
Reflection #19: Playing Politics
(Disclaimer: I am not complaining. It just sounds like I am.)
This blog about being a teacher and coach...not necessarily me. Well, maybe a little bit.
Being back in the classroom for 6 weeks each summer, including this year, combined with recent news items about teachers (or as state legislators like to refer to us as Lazy Incompetent Greedy Slugs or LIGS), prompted me to write this reflection. It's probably not fair to generalize about the members of the legislature, although maybe it is. We all know that teachers have had the privilege of determining their own salaries, and health-and-retirement benefits. Oh, no! Wait! That’s the state legislature. I know!! It sounds a little bitter, but how come, when the state’s economy goes in the uh, er um “pooper”, as a result of bad governing, suddenly it’s the teachers who caused it, and, by damn, the teachers are going to pay? Just asking.
I am officially retired, but I love teaching, and while I hate the 38 mile drive each morning, it's the concession that I make to indulge myself. In my early days as a teacher at St. Ignatius, “friends” would chide me about “only working 5 hours a day” and “nine months a year”. Of course, they were right. I had an angel on my shoulder to check off homework assignments, grade tests and quizzes for over 120 students each day, and make up lesson plans and tests for the next days classes. Additionally, when Texas Instrument came out with what was originally called the “electronic slide rule”, or new elements were added to the curriculum, all I had to do was take a pill and, mystically, I knew immediately how to use the devices and, what was the best teaching method to incorporate. (In case it’s not obvious, I’m being sarcastic!) I’ve noticed that everyone seems to have an opinion on how to be a good teacher. (The use of the word, “...everyone...” is for dramatic effect, but not entirely.) I have mused about why it is so common for those not in the teaching profession to presume they have a high level of expertise. I recall that, before I was married with 4 kids, I was the world’s greatest expert on how to raise kids. What made things even worse was that I was a “psychology major”!!! (Theme from the movie “Jaws” in the background. Oops! Mind wandered.) Anyway, by the time JoAnn, our youngest, turned 21, I had learned my lesson. This is no reflection on how my kids turned out; they’re great...thanks to their mother.
Back to the point, I think that I know why there are so many teaching “experts” who haven’t blessed the industry with their presence. Two reasons: Most people who opine about teachers at all, have a vested and emotional stake in the quality of education. They correctly assume that a good education for their children will increase (but I hasten to add, NOT guarantee) the likelihood of a successful life. (Don’t get me started on what constitutes a “successful life”.) Additionally, the lack of achievement in the form of poor or mediocre grades, ...or not making “the team”...or getting into NHS...can be looked on as a poor reflection on parents. (To this latter point, I say, “HOGWASH”!)
As a coach,...and I did a boat-load of coaching...we had to deal within the boundaries of the philosophy of the school, the facilities available and a-whole-lot-of other intervening variables, while trying to provide the best possible program for our student-athletes. On an emotional level, a parent’s reaction to a son or daughter who was “cut” from the team or who didn’t make the starting line-up was 10 times greater than for a poor math grade. I’ve heard fathers say, “I’ve seen my boy hit those 15-footers in the driveway. No way those other kids are better” or “My daughter can rally with the best of the men at our racket club...even the ones that don‘t need walkers. Clearly she should be playing first-singles.” (For those of you not versed in the culture of tennis, “first singles” is a good thing.) I will only divulge the most egregious examples of parent complaints that I’ve heard over a pint or two of Guinness or a Hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s in Nawlins.
The second reason is that everyone has seen teachers teach. We were all students for 12, 16 or more years, and we’ve seen teachers and coaches that we liked or didn’t like, good or bad. Few people have an opinion about whether a heart surgeon or CPA is good at his or her job. Who knows if someone is a good heart-surgeon, CPA except those in the profession. I suspect if you died during surgery, or went to jail for tax-evasion, you’d probably form an opinion.
Well, for the moment, to quote Forrest Gump, “That’s all I've got to say about that.” I imagine that, for those of you who are convinced that teachers are “LIGS“, at best, you won’t agree with my reflection. At worst, you’ll be angry, and try to dissolve the union I’m in. Save your time; no union.
Have a good day!
(Disclaimer: I am not complaining. It just sounds like I am.)
This blog about being a teacher and coach...not necessarily me. Well, maybe a little bit.
Being back in the classroom for 6 weeks each summer, including this year, combined with recent news items about teachers (or as state legislators like to refer to us as Lazy Incompetent Greedy Slugs or LIGS), prompted me to write this reflection. It's probably not fair to generalize about the members of the legislature, although maybe it is. We all know that teachers have had the privilege of determining their own salaries, and health-and-retirement benefits. Oh, no! Wait! That’s the state legislature. I know!! It sounds a little bitter, but how come, when the state’s economy goes in the uh, er um “pooper”, as a result of bad governing, suddenly it’s the teachers who caused it, and, by damn, the teachers are going to pay? Just asking.
I am officially retired, but I love teaching, and while I hate the 38 mile drive each morning, it's the concession that I make to indulge myself. In my early days as a teacher at St. Ignatius, “friends” would chide me about “only working 5 hours a day” and “nine months a year”. Of course, they were right. I had an angel on my shoulder to check off homework assignments, grade tests and quizzes for over 120 students each day, and make up lesson plans and tests for the next days classes. Additionally, when Texas Instrument came out with what was originally called the “electronic slide rule”, or new elements were added to the curriculum, all I had to do was take a pill and, mystically, I knew immediately how to use the devices and, what was the best teaching method to incorporate. (In case it’s not obvious, I’m being sarcastic!) I’ve noticed that everyone seems to have an opinion on how to be a good teacher. (The use of the word, “...everyone...” is for dramatic effect, but not entirely.) I have mused about why it is so common for those not in the teaching profession to presume they have a high level of expertise. I recall that, before I was married with 4 kids, I was the world’s greatest expert on how to raise kids. What made things even worse was that I was a “psychology major”!!! (Theme from the movie “Jaws” in the background. Oops! Mind wandered.) Anyway, by the time JoAnn, our youngest, turned 21, I had learned my lesson. This is no reflection on how my kids turned out; they’re great...thanks to their mother.
Back to the point, I think that I know why there are so many teaching “experts” who haven’t blessed the industry with their presence. Two reasons: Most people who opine about teachers at all, have a vested and emotional stake in the quality of education. They correctly assume that a good education for their children will increase (but I hasten to add, NOT guarantee) the likelihood of a successful life. (Don’t get me started on what constitutes a “successful life”.) Additionally, the lack of achievement in the form of poor or mediocre grades, ...or not making “the team”...or getting into NHS...can be looked on as a poor reflection on parents. (To this latter point, I say, “HOGWASH”!)
As a coach,...and I did a boat-load of coaching...we had to deal within the boundaries of the philosophy of the school, the facilities available and a-whole-lot-of other intervening variables, while trying to provide the best possible program for our student-athletes. On an emotional level, a parent’s reaction to a son or daughter who was “cut” from the team or who didn’t make the starting line-up was 10 times greater than for a poor math grade. I’ve heard fathers say, “I’ve seen my boy hit those 15-footers in the driveway. No way those other kids are better” or “My daughter can rally with the best of the men at our racket club...even the ones that don‘t need walkers. Clearly she should be playing first-singles.” (For those of you not versed in the culture of tennis, “first singles” is a good thing.) I will only divulge the most egregious examples of parent complaints that I’ve heard over a pint or two of Guinness or a Hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s in Nawlins.
The second reason is that everyone has seen teachers teach. We were all students for 12, 16 or more years, and we’ve seen teachers and coaches that we liked or didn’t like, good or bad. Few people have an opinion about whether a heart surgeon or CPA is good at his or her job. Who knows if someone is a good heart-surgeon, CPA except those in the profession. I suspect if you died during surgery, or went to jail for tax-evasion, you’d probably form an opinion.
Well, for the moment, to quote Forrest Gump, “That’s all I've got to say about that.” I imagine that, for those of you who are convinced that teachers are “LIGS“, at best, you won’t agree with my reflection. At worst, you’ll be angry, and try to dissolve the union I’m in. Save your time; no union.
Have a good day!
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Reflection #18 (Only 1058 to go!): THE Ghost Story
Occasionally, I meet someone associated with Saint Ignatius and Holy Family Church who is not familiar with THE ghost story. Actually, I know three (or four or five, depending on how you count them) ghost stories, but the most renowned pertains to Father Damen, who was the founder of both Holy Family Parish and Saint Ignatius "College". This is certainly an instance where one story easily morphs into another. I'll try to keep myself under control.
I should probably also make the disclaimer that I did no research on what I tell you. This is a part of the oral tradition passed along to me very early in my career...kind of like the Old Testament before they discovered paper. As a part of that "tradition", I understand that Fr. Damen, a German Jesuit and the man after whom Damen Avenue is named, founded the church and the schools to serve the Irish immigrants in the mid-1800's.
Here's the version of the story that I heard: One day, sometime in late 1800's, after saying mass, Fr. Damen was approached by two altar boys who asked him if he would come to their house and give their mother the last rites. She was gravely ill. He said that he would, and they told him where they "lived". Father did not recognize the boys, but that was not unusual since Holy Family was a very large parish.
When he had finished putting his vestments away, he went to the address he had been given. There, he found a very old lady who was clearly near death, and he gave her the last rites, what we used to call extreme unction. When he finished the blessing, he stayed briefly to visit with the lady, and she asked him how he knew to come there. He told her about the two altar boys and their request. He said he thought that they said their mother was ill, but they must have said "grandmother". She asked him to describe the boys, and when he did, she began to cry. She told him that she did have two sons...only two sons...and they both died in a drowning accident when they were about the age of the boys Father indicated.
He firmly believed he had been sent to her by the ghosts of her dead sons. To commemorate his experience, Father Damen commissioned two statues of the altar boys to be placed above, and looking toward, the altar in the sanctuary, where they can be seen to this day. Next time you're there, take a look. Rumor has it that the boys eyes follow the priests as they move around the altar.
Three final points: 1) Phyllis Myers, recently retired secretary in the principal's office, has a book written by Richard Crowe, the Chicago ghost hunter, which has a slightly different version, but the main theme is the same.
2) I probably shouldn't say this until I'm completely retired, but I'm not much of a ghost-believer, and I've never seen a ghost in either Ignatius or Holy Family...but...
3) I know others, whose veracity (look it up!) I respect, who say that they have had super-natural (ghostly) experiences here.
Just saying!
I should probably also make the disclaimer that I did no research on what I tell you. This is a part of the oral tradition passed along to me very early in my career...kind of like the Old Testament before they discovered paper. As a part of that "tradition", I understand that Fr. Damen, a German Jesuit and the man after whom Damen Avenue is named, founded the church and the schools to serve the Irish immigrants in the mid-1800's.
Here's the version of the story that I heard: One day, sometime in late 1800's, after saying mass, Fr. Damen was approached by two altar boys who asked him if he would come to their house and give their mother the last rites. She was gravely ill. He said that he would, and they told him where they "lived". Father did not recognize the boys, but that was not unusual since Holy Family was a very large parish.
When he had finished putting his vestments away, he went to the address he had been given. There, he found a very old lady who was clearly near death, and he gave her the last rites, what we used to call extreme unction. When he finished the blessing, he stayed briefly to visit with the lady, and she asked him how he knew to come there. He told her about the two altar boys and their request. He said he thought that they said their mother was ill, but they must have said "grandmother". She asked him to describe the boys, and when he did, she began to cry. She told him that she did have two sons...only two sons...and they both died in a drowning accident when they were about the age of the boys Father indicated.
He firmly believed he had been sent to her by the ghosts of her dead sons. To commemorate his experience, Father Damen commissioned two statues of the altar boys to be placed above, and looking toward, the altar in the sanctuary, where they can be seen to this day. Next time you're there, take a look. Rumor has it that the boys eyes follow the priests as they move around the altar.
Three final points: 1) Phyllis Myers, recently retired secretary in the principal's office, has a book written by Richard Crowe, the Chicago ghost hunter, which has a slightly different version, but the main theme is the same.
2) I probably shouldn't say this until I'm completely retired, but I'm not much of a ghost-believer, and I've never seen a ghost in either Ignatius or Holy Family...but...
3) I know others, whose veracity (look it up!) I respect, who say that they have had super-natural (ghostly) experiences here.
Just saying!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Reflection #17 (Only 1059 to go!): The End of Times
Do you recognize the name Harold Camping? If not, he is the man who predicted that the world would end on May 21, 2011. Actually, he said that the "rapture" and Judgment Day would be on that date. While I didn't believe that it would happen, I also didn't write my June 1st blog until May 22...just in case.
Harold seems like a genuinely nice man who truly believed what he predicted. Afterward he expressed embarrassment and apologized for the miscalculation. My thought was, "No apologies necessary; I'm pretty happy that it didn't happen." I think for most of us, life is like a poor restaurant; no matter how bad the food was, the worst complaint is that there wasn't enough. (FYI, he has since had a stroke, as a result of stress that followed his prediction; for that I feel a little sorry for him.)
Harold's prediction and its failure to materialize prompted this recollection. In October of 1962, we had our own brush with "The End of Times". If anyone reading this blog is old enough to remember that month, I want to bring you back to the "Cuban Missile Crisis". I was in my 2nd year of teaching at Saint Ignatius High School...not College Prep.
The set-up: At the end of World War II, the U.S.A went from being a nervous ally of Russia to being the vanguard against Russia's apparent desire for world domination. For four years, there was a contentious relationship between Russia and the U.S.A., Then one day in Sept. of 1949, we found out that the Russians had “the bomb”. Through the early ‘50’s, there was paranoia, the "red scare", bomb shelters in homes, the Strategic Air Command and, perhaps most terrifying of all, the "Dooms-Day Clock"...always set a couple of minutes before midnight.
By 1962, the Russians had already launched rockets capable of carrying atomic war-heads long distances, and they were starting to erect them in Cuba, which was the first official Communist country in the western hemisphere. There was no question about their intent. Those rockets could reach every city in the U.S.
[Me being a smart a--: Luckily, we had mastered the technology of atomic bomb-resistant school desks. In case of a nuclear attack, the students were to get under their desks. We can only imagine how much longer the War-in-the-Pacific would have lasted if the Japanese had developed that technology.]
The Result: The story is longer and more complex, but toward the end of October, 1962, President Kennedy ordered a blockade of Cuban ports. For seven days, Russian cargoe ships carrying rocket parts approached Cuban waters. The long-awaited war was at hand. There had been no bill-boards warning us of the end, or radio preachers to tell us how to spend our waning moments, but we all knew we were all going to die. The "Dooms Day Clock" had mere seconds to go. Both sides had enough nuclear weapons to wipe out humanity many times over, and this was it.
On October 28th, the Russian leader, Nikita Khrushchev offered to remove their missiles from Cuba if we would remove ours from Turkey.
The Ignatius connection: During one of those days, as I was teaching one of my classes, there was a sudden loud "booom" from the direction of the lake. That's it. It's all over. Then we were told that naval pilots were practicing their super-sonic flights over Lake Michigan; it was a so-called sonic-boom. I know that the story sounds like it "fizzles", but, to those of us who experienced it, it was a high-anxiety snap-shot moment that illuminated our mortality.
Some have said that the reason the good old days were good was because we know that we have survived them. I survived the missile crisis, but I don't feel those days were all that good. At 23-years-old, I wasn't ready to "leave this vale of tears", if you get my drift. Ya know! At 72, I'm still not ready. As with the poor restaurant, life isn't perfect, but there still hasn't been enough.
Harold seems like a genuinely nice man who truly believed what he predicted. Afterward he expressed embarrassment and apologized for the miscalculation. My thought was, "No apologies necessary; I'm pretty happy that it didn't happen." I think for most of us, life is like a poor restaurant; no matter how bad the food was, the worst complaint is that there wasn't enough. (FYI, he has since had a stroke, as a result of stress that followed his prediction; for that I feel a little sorry for him.)
Harold's prediction and its failure to materialize prompted this recollection. In October of 1962, we had our own brush with "The End of Times". If anyone reading this blog is old enough to remember that month, I want to bring you back to the "Cuban Missile Crisis". I was in my 2nd year of teaching at Saint Ignatius High School...not College Prep.
The set-up: At the end of World War II, the U.S.A went from being a nervous ally of Russia to being the vanguard against Russia's apparent desire for world domination. For four years, there was a contentious relationship between Russia and the U.S.A., Then one day in Sept. of 1949, we found out that the Russians had “the bomb”. Through the early ‘50’s, there was paranoia, the "red scare", bomb shelters in homes, the Strategic Air Command and, perhaps most terrifying of all, the "Dooms-Day Clock"...always set a couple of minutes before midnight.
By 1962, the Russians had already launched rockets capable of carrying atomic war-heads long distances, and they were starting to erect them in Cuba, which was the first official Communist country in the western hemisphere. There was no question about their intent. Those rockets could reach every city in the U.S.
[Me being a smart a--: Luckily, we had mastered the technology of atomic bomb-resistant school desks. In case of a nuclear attack, the students were to get under their desks. We can only imagine how much longer the War-in-the-Pacific would have lasted if the Japanese had developed that technology.]
The Result: The story is longer and more complex, but toward the end of October, 1962, President Kennedy ordered a blockade of Cuban ports. For seven days, Russian cargoe ships carrying rocket parts approached Cuban waters. The long-awaited war was at hand. There had been no bill-boards warning us of the end, or radio preachers to tell us how to spend our waning moments, but we all knew we were all going to die. The "Dooms Day Clock" had mere seconds to go. Both sides had enough nuclear weapons to wipe out humanity many times over, and this was it.
On October 28th, the Russian leader, Nikita Khrushchev offered to remove their missiles from Cuba if we would remove ours from Turkey.
The Ignatius connection: During one of those days, as I was teaching one of my classes, there was a sudden loud "booom" from the direction of the lake. That's it. It's all over. Then we were told that naval pilots were practicing their super-sonic flights over Lake Michigan; it was a so-called sonic-boom. I know that the story sounds like it "fizzles", but, to those of us who experienced it, it was a high-anxiety snap-shot moment that illuminated our mortality.
Some have said that the reason the good old days were good was because we know that we have survived them. I survived the missile crisis, but I don't feel those days were all that good. At 23-years-old, I wasn't ready to "leave this vale of tears", if you get my drift. Ya know! At 72, I'm still not ready. As with the poor restaurant, life isn't perfect, but there still hasn't been enough.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Blog #16 (only 1060 to go): On Being German
There is usually some basis for truth to ethnic stereotypes. I was raised in a 100% German family. My family liked cabbage, dumplings and beer. Another stereotype that was grounded in reality in my family was that emotions were to be kept in check. That was especially true on my father’s side of the family. There are other cultural anomalies, but that will suffice for what I am about to write.
I must admit that, German-wise, I am a washout. I really don’t like cabbage; I’m not crazy about dumplings, and the only beer I like is Guinness. Most of all, I am emotional. I get choked up seeing little babies in TV ads, and don’t get me started talking about my grandchildren. By the end, you may well have to help me to a chair and use a cloth to dab my tears.
Actually, this blog is not about being German; it is about my emotions during the end-of-the-year Mass in Holy Family Church on Tuesday. I’m not sure I can explain why I “choked” up. Certainly some of it was that the church was filled with the glorious sound of the St. Ignatius’ wonderful orchestra and choir, but my emotions were spurred by the recollection of some heart-tugging...at least for me...memories.
Very close to 50 years ago, on the first Friday of the school year, I stepped into Holy Family for the very first time to join in the celebration of the Mass-of-the-Holy Spirit. In those days, there were many priests in the school, and during the masses, most of them were at the altar. That was a majestic sight. The church was filled with the voices of 1150 young men as we prayed for God’s blessings for the coming year. Daily lunchtime masses were held in Holy Family, and they were pretty well attended. In those days, the boys walked through the “tunnel” to church, passing what is now the Treasures Office and the room occupied by the maintenance staff. They did not go outside to get to church, and, of course, they walked in total silence.
On Tuesday this year, there weren’t as many priests, and the student body is now co-ed, but, despite those small differences, the memories of those 50 years, with all of their accompanying emotions, washed over me. Holy Family Church is a gold thread that runs through the fabric of my life at Ignatius.
I can recall Father Moosbrugger giving what was to be referred to as the “greener pastures” homily, in which he said that the Jesuits had decided to stay at “1076” and not relocate on the south-west side, near where St. Laurence High School is now located.
The Baccalaureate Masses were held In Holy Family, and there was always some emotion to seeing the students that I taught as they headed out into the “cold world”.
As the church was falling on hard times, one day Carmen Pintozzi (a great teacher and coach, and a very good friend of mine) and I climbed to the choir loft when the church was empty. As we walked towards the front of the loft, we could feel it begin to sway, and we scampered (as well as two 200-plus pound men can “scamper”) back to the stair-well, trying not to shake the loft any more than necessary, nervously laughing about our “near-death” experience. In itself, it wasn’t a big deal, but a short time later, I stood at the lectern, reading the petitions at Carmen’s funeral mass. (That was tough.) As a side note, the “Junior-of-the-Year” award is named in Carmen’s honor. This years honoree is Robert Nolan, so if anyone who reads this blog knows Robert, please be sure to congratulate him on his award.
A few years ago, my daughter, Jill, was married in Holy Family, and a week later, I attended my last Baccalaureate Mass as I prepared to retire. No single event would explain why I felt as I did, but the sum total of these and many more brought back the nostalgia, both joyous and painful.
There were quite a few years in the middle of that time period when the masses were held in the school gym, because Holy Family had deteriorated so badly, but, thanks to the efforts of Fr. George Lane, SJ, and the generosity of many people, the church has saved.
I have a ghost story that is a part of the Holy Family tradition, but that is saved for a later “reminiscence”
I must admit that, German-wise, I am a washout. I really don’t like cabbage; I’m not crazy about dumplings, and the only beer I like is Guinness. Most of all, I am emotional. I get choked up seeing little babies in TV ads, and don’t get me started talking about my grandchildren. By the end, you may well have to help me to a chair and use a cloth to dab my tears.
Actually, this blog is not about being German; it is about my emotions during the end-of-the-year Mass in Holy Family Church on Tuesday. I’m not sure I can explain why I “choked” up. Certainly some of it was that the church was filled with the glorious sound of the St. Ignatius’ wonderful orchestra and choir, but my emotions were spurred by the recollection of some heart-tugging...at least for me...memories.
Very close to 50 years ago, on the first Friday of the school year, I stepped into Holy Family for the very first time to join in the celebration of the Mass-of-the-Holy Spirit. In those days, there were many priests in the school, and during the masses, most of them were at the altar. That was a majestic sight. The church was filled with the voices of 1150 young men as we prayed for God’s blessings for the coming year. Daily lunchtime masses were held in Holy Family, and they were pretty well attended. In those days, the boys walked through the “tunnel” to church, passing what is now the Treasures Office and the room occupied by the maintenance staff. They did not go outside to get to church, and, of course, they walked in total silence.
On Tuesday this year, there weren’t as many priests, and the student body is now co-ed, but, despite those small differences, the memories of those 50 years, with all of their accompanying emotions, washed over me. Holy Family Church is a gold thread that runs through the fabric of my life at Ignatius.
I can recall Father Moosbrugger giving what was to be referred to as the “greener pastures” homily, in which he said that the Jesuits had decided to stay at “1076” and not relocate on the south-west side, near where St. Laurence High School is now located.
The Baccalaureate Masses were held In Holy Family, and there was always some emotion to seeing the students that I taught as they headed out into the “cold world”.
As the church was falling on hard times, one day Carmen Pintozzi (a great teacher and coach, and a very good friend of mine) and I climbed to the choir loft when the church was empty. As we walked towards the front of the loft, we could feel it begin to sway, and we scampered (as well as two 200-plus pound men can “scamper”) back to the stair-well, trying not to shake the loft any more than necessary, nervously laughing about our “near-death” experience. In itself, it wasn’t a big deal, but a short time later, I stood at the lectern, reading the petitions at Carmen’s funeral mass. (That was tough.) As a side note, the “Junior-of-the-Year” award is named in Carmen’s honor. This years honoree is Robert Nolan, so if anyone who reads this blog knows Robert, please be sure to congratulate him on his award.
A few years ago, my daughter, Jill, was married in Holy Family, and a week later, I attended my last Baccalaureate Mass as I prepared to retire. No single event would explain why I felt as I did, but the sum total of these and many more brought back the nostalgia, both joyous and painful.
There were quite a few years in the middle of that time period when the masses were held in the school gym, because Holy Family had deteriorated so badly, but, thanks to the efforts of Fr. George Lane, SJ, and the generosity of many people, the church has saved.
I have a ghost story that is a part of the Holy Family tradition, but that is saved for a later “reminiscence”
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Reflection #15 (Only 1061 to go!): Getting Back On The Horse
Reflection #15 (Only 1061 to go!): Getting Back On The Horse Just as singers must sing and dancers must dance, so teachers must teach...brace yourself. I was prompted to write this reflection because of an email that I received yesterday from an alumnus. We’ll call him "Bob" (not even close to his real name). In a previous note, he had disclosed a couple of bad turns his life had taken...loss of job and end of his long marriage. Yesterday, his follow-up note was positive and up-lifting. (Wait! Do those two words mean the same thing?) The problems still existed, but he had a “Life is what it is!” attitude as he sets about the task of dealing with them.
In the late summer of 1969, Carmen Pintozzi had taken his team on a retreat...a pretty standard practice in those days...to help build team spirit. He was a history teacher at Ignatius, and he was also the cross country coach. Since I was the A.D. at the time, I joined them, and one afternoon Carm and I were walking around the retreat house grounds chatting. He was 30 years old with a wife and 3 kids, all under six years old. While we walked, he was telling me his long range plan for the future. Carm loved to paint (pictures; not walls) and he was pretty good at it. When he retired, he wanted to move to Wisconsin, near a lake, and devote himself to that passion. In January of that school year, Carm passed away unexpectedly from leukemia.
Carm's widow was understandably heart-broken with the loss of her wonderful husband, and frightened by what dangers might lie ahead, but she focused her attention on her children and created for them a rich and full life. They learned well from their mother and have, in turn, each have met their own challenges head-on and persevered in a manner that has made their parents very proud.
At the age of 20, Pat O’Mara contracted polio and was wheelchair bound for the next 30-plus years of his life. Pat went on to become an outstanding teacher of math at Saint Ignatius, held many jobs at school, all the while being a loving husband and the father of six children.
A favorite saying of mine (compliments of Jillian Luzzi) is: Define your life; don’t let your life define you. If there had been a poster made with that saying, Pat’s picture would surely have been on it.
I close with a quote from the Raispis/Spalding Clichés To Live By. This was originally penned by a newspaper columnist, Sydney J. Harris: Life is the art of riding a horse backwards without reins, and learning to fall off without being trampled. There would be fewer personal catastrophes if we spent less time practicing the art of riding and more time practicing the art of falling. I would add ...and getting back up on the horse.
In the late summer of 1969, Carmen Pintozzi had taken his team on a retreat...a pretty standard practice in those days...to help build team spirit. He was a history teacher at Ignatius, and he was also the cross country coach. Since I was the A.D. at the time, I joined them, and one afternoon Carm and I were walking around the retreat house grounds chatting. He was 30 years old with a wife and 3 kids, all under six years old. While we walked, he was telling me his long range plan for the future. Carm loved to paint (pictures; not walls) and he was pretty good at it. When he retired, he wanted to move to Wisconsin, near a lake, and devote himself to that passion. In January of that school year, Carm passed away unexpectedly from leukemia.
Carm's widow was understandably heart-broken with the loss of her wonderful husband, and frightened by what dangers might lie ahead, but she focused her attention on her children and created for them a rich and full life. They learned well from their mother and have, in turn, each have met their own challenges head-on and persevered in a manner that has made their parents very proud.
At the age of 20, Pat O’Mara contracted polio and was wheelchair bound for the next 30-plus years of his life. Pat went on to become an outstanding teacher of math at Saint Ignatius, held many jobs at school, all the while being a loving husband and the father of six children.
A favorite saying of mine (compliments of Jillian Luzzi) is: Define your life; don’t let your life define you. If there had been a poster made with that saying, Pat’s picture would surely have been on it.
I close with a quote from the Raispis/Spalding Clichés To Live By. This was originally penned by a newspaper columnist, Sydney J. Harris: Life is the art of riding a horse backwards without reins, and learning to fall off without being trampled. There would be fewer personal catastrophes if we spent less time practicing the art of riding and more time practicing the art of falling. I would add ...and getting back up on the horse.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Reflection #15(Only 1061 to go): Flying Under the Radar, Deux!
Reflection #14 (Only 1062 to go!): Flying Under the Radar, Deux 2 I was prompted to write about Ray Kizelevicus after I read an article in the Chicago Tribune. No, it wasn't an article about Mr. K (Forgive the informality, but I’m too old to write his whole last name every time I refer to him. I also don’t buy green bananas any more.), but it was written by Chris McNamara, class of ‘92. Chris is the Media Manager for Lincoln Park Zoo, and he has often written articles for the Trib. I sent Chris a note complimenting him on the article. He thanked me and added that Mr. Kizelevicus had been a big influence on his becoming a professional writer.
About the same time, Tony D’Sousa, also of the class of ‘92, showed up to speak to one of Ray’s classes. Tony had spent some time in the Peace Corp, and wrote a book about his experiences, receiving several awards for his work. In conversation with Ray, other authors' names came up, all of whom had been his students and all of whom were now earning a living, and some acclaim, as writers. A few continue to stay in touch with him.
I was beginning to sense a "theme", and I wondered what there was about Ray Kizelevicus that had this effect on so many of his students. So I asked Chris for some help. He said,"...Mr. Kiz's straight forward approach, and his wry sense of humor helped make some of the dryer material more interesting." (Thanks, Chris.)
That made sense, but I had the feeling that there must be more. I tried to think of a word or description that would encapsulate what I knew of Ray. I think I have it: GOOD! Ray is a good guy, a good teacher, a good Ignatian, a good family man. In each case, the word “good” could easily be replaced by “great”. The sum total of all of these “goodness’s” made me conclude that Ray is just a good person. Ray, the “good guy” is a man with whom I feel comfortable sitting and chatting, but also someone I know that I could go to if I needed help. He would extend himself far beyond all reasonable expectations. Over the years, several times he has been asked to step up to deal with problems that have developed at school. For example, a few years ago, he was asked to step in as moderator for the yearbook which had been neglected. As usual he took over the recovery effort and did a masterful job.
Though Ray didn't go to Ignatius, I still consider him the “good Ignatian”. In addition to his official job as English teacher, at one time or another, he has served as coach for the freshmen baseball, the bowling team and the chess team. He has been the moderator of the photography club, coordinator of Open House and the Walk-For-Ignatius, and he was the uniform manager for the Athletic Department. If other teachers are considered “corner stones” of the school, Ray is definitely the “mortar”...really good mortar. He has often been called on to fill in many of the gaps in order to hold things together.
Evidence of Ray, the “good man”, combined with Ray the “good family man”, is his commitment to the service projects. In 1993, he was “recruited” by his daughter, Laura, to be as a moderator on a school-sponsored service project to a poor community in Pennsylvania. Since then, he has gone on 15 more service projects in the United States and gone to Guatemala six times, including three times on his own. His daughters, Laura and Cheryl, have accompanied him as chaperones several times.
Only his wife, Barb, knows if under his “Clark Kent” outfit, he has a red cape and a capital “S“ on his chest, but she isn’t telling.
Ray, thanks for all you mean to Saint Ignatius.
About the same time, Tony D’Sousa, also of the class of ‘92, showed up to speak to one of Ray’s classes. Tony had spent some time in the Peace Corp, and wrote a book about his experiences, receiving several awards for his work. In conversation with Ray, other authors' names came up, all of whom had been his students and all of whom were now earning a living, and some acclaim, as writers. A few continue to stay in touch with him.
I was beginning to sense a "theme", and I wondered what there was about Ray Kizelevicus that had this effect on so many of his students. So I asked Chris for some help. He said,"...Mr. Kiz's straight forward approach, and his wry sense of humor helped make some of the dryer material more interesting." (Thanks, Chris.)
That made sense, but I had the feeling that there must be more. I tried to think of a word or description that would encapsulate what I knew of Ray. I think I have it: GOOD! Ray is a good guy, a good teacher, a good Ignatian, a good family man. In each case, the word “good” could easily be replaced by “great”. The sum total of all of these “goodness’s” made me conclude that Ray is just a good person. Ray, the “good guy” is a man with whom I feel comfortable sitting and chatting, but also someone I know that I could go to if I needed help. He would extend himself far beyond all reasonable expectations. Over the years, several times he has been asked to step up to deal with problems that have developed at school. For example, a few years ago, he was asked to step in as moderator for the yearbook which had been neglected. As usual he took over the recovery effort and did a masterful job.
Though Ray didn't go to Ignatius, I still consider him the “good Ignatian”. In addition to his official job as English teacher, at one time or another, he has served as coach for the freshmen baseball, the bowling team and the chess team. He has been the moderator of the photography club, coordinator of Open House and the Walk-For-Ignatius, and he was the uniform manager for the Athletic Department. If other teachers are considered “corner stones” of the school, Ray is definitely the “mortar”...really good mortar. He has often been called on to fill in many of the gaps in order to hold things together.
Evidence of Ray, the “good man”, combined with Ray the “good family man”, is his commitment to the service projects. In 1993, he was “recruited” by his daughter, Laura, to be as a moderator on a school-sponsored service project to a poor community in Pennsylvania. Since then, he has gone on 15 more service projects in the United States and gone to Guatemala six times, including three times on his own. His daughters, Laura and Cheryl, have accompanied him as chaperones several times.
Only his wife, Barb, knows if under his “Clark Kent” outfit, he has a red cape and a capital “S“ on his chest, but she isn’t telling.
Ray, thanks for all you mean to Saint Ignatius.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Blog #14: Loose ends
Reflection #14 (Only 1062 to go!): Loose Ends
Loose end #1
I'm sorry that I didn't make it to the 4th floor for the class of '86. Some of my favorites are in that class, but, as I was about to get on the elevator, I saw Frank Raispis and he looked pretty worn out. Us (or is it "we") old-timers don't have much of a 2nd wind to catch. I was Frank's driver, so I chose to "err on the side of the angels" and we left.
Loose end #2: Following "Reflection #13", about football ending and baseball beginning, someone encouraged me to write why I thought that Fr. Koch dropped football. My opinion is based on surmise and conjecture. There are others still around who have a far better handle on that, but I will (sort of) state my opinion.
We did not have a very successful football program for the first two years that I was at Ignatius. No blame game here; remember, if I point one finger at someone, three are pointed back at me...probably pretty well aimed. But what if Father had held out one more year? There was a new coach with a new system. The junior varsity had been somewhat more successful. Who knows?
What happened before that fateful decision? Around 1958, several of the Christian Brothers high schools had pulled out of the Catholic League and formed the Chicagoland Prep League. My understanding was that they left the Catholic League in order to ratchet down interscholastic sports (not to do away with them) and improve intramural sports. I heard that they had decided to spread the use of the facilities and the expenditures more equitably through the student body by up-grading the intramural program, but I don't really know that.
Perhaps the cost of having football at St. Ignatius, combined with the fact that we weren't doing very well, lead to the decision. I was not privy to that information.
Loose End #3
I couldn’t help but think of that when I was reminiscing about Fr. Koch deciding to drop football. In “string theory*”, which I don’t understand at all, there could be an infinite number of universes in which every possible event and out-come is played out. Maybe in one of them, Ignatius didn’t drop football, and there was a different result. Just a thought. Wait! I just gave myself a head-ache.
(*It has something to do with particle physics, black-holes and 11-dimensions. I saw it on the Science channel; I think I need to get a job.): After blog #11 which included the cliché "Raispis/Spalding Clichés to Live By", someone asked that I include some more of the tenets. Perhaps at a later time, but one rule that stuck in my memory was frequently posited by Dr. Mailliard, not by Frank or me. Those of you who ran for him may have heard him say, "When we quit, we quit one day too early." If it isn't obvious, his point was that if we hung in there one more day, we would succeed.: I was very happy to see the alumni who came to the reunion(s) on April 9th. While I have to admit that my memory isn't as good as it once was (and probably never was), I was excited to hear how those of you that I knew "back in the day" were doing. Whether you're successful in your career, dealing with set-backs in a career, still training for a career, or raising a beautiful family, it's always interesting. I was talking with one alumna who, after college, spent a year in Hawaii (as a waitress) and a year in Australia. Now she’s back working for an advanced degree in her profession. At 28, she's had way more adventures than I've had at 72.
Loose end #1
I'm sorry that I didn't make it to the 4th floor for the class of '86. Some of my favorites are in that class, but, as I was about to get on the elevator, I saw Frank Raispis and he looked pretty worn out. Us (or is it "we") old-timers don't have much of a 2nd wind to catch. I was Frank's driver, so I chose to "err on the side of the angels" and we left.
Loose end #2: Following "Reflection #13", about football ending and baseball beginning, someone encouraged me to write why I thought that Fr. Koch dropped football. My opinion is based on surmise and conjecture. There are others still around who have a far better handle on that, but I will (sort of) state my opinion.
We did not have a very successful football program for the first two years that I was at Ignatius. No blame game here; remember, if I point one finger at someone, three are pointed back at me...probably pretty well aimed. But what if Father had held out one more year? There was a new coach with a new system. The junior varsity had been somewhat more successful. Who knows?
What happened before that fateful decision? Around 1958, several of the Christian Brothers high schools had pulled out of the Catholic League and formed the Chicagoland Prep League. My understanding was that they left the Catholic League in order to ratchet down interscholastic sports (not to do away with them) and improve intramural sports. I heard that they had decided to spread the use of the facilities and the expenditures more equitably through the student body by up-grading the intramural program, but I don't really know that.
Perhaps the cost of having football at St. Ignatius, combined with the fact that we weren't doing very well, lead to the decision. I was not privy to that information.
Loose End #3
I couldn’t help but think of that when I was reminiscing about Fr. Koch deciding to drop football. In “string theory*”, which I don’t understand at all, there could be an infinite number of universes in which every possible event and out-come is played out. Maybe in one of them, Ignatius didn’t drop football, and there was a different result. Just a thought. Wait! I just gave myself a head-ache.
(*It has something to do with particle physics, black-holes and 11-dimensions. I saw it on the Science channel; I think I need to get a job.): After blog #11 which included the cliché "Raispis/Spalding Clichés to Live By", someone asked that I include some more of the tenets. Perhaps at a later time, but one rule that stuck in my memory was frequently posited by Dr. Mailliard, not by Frank or me. Those of you who ran for him may have heard him say, "When we quit, we quit one day too early." If it isn't obvious, his point was that if we hung in there one more day, we would succeed.: I was very happy to see the alumni who came to the reunion(s) on April 9th. While I have to admit that my memory isn't as good as it once was (and probably never was), I was excited to hear how those of you that I knew "back in the day" were doing. Whether you're successful in your career, dealing with set-backs in a career, still training for a career, or raising a beautiful family, it's always interesting. I was talking with one alumna who, after college, spent a year in Hawaii (as a waitress) and a year in Australia. Now she’s back working for an advanced degree in her profession. At 28, she's had way more adventures than I've had at 72.
Friday, April 1, 2011
# 13 :The Great Transition or How We Got Baseball
Reflection #13 (Only 1063 to go!) The Great Transition of '63 or How WE Got Baseball
In the spring of 1963, the football coaching staff was invited to dinner at school following an afternoon of spring practice. After that, we were to meet with Fr. Koch, the president of St. Ignatius. It was a good meal, but it didn't make up for what was to follow. At that meeting, Fr. Koch told us that St. Ignatius was leaving the Chicago Catholic League and would join the Chicagoland Prep League in every sport but football. The most obvious question was, "In what league would we be playing football, Father?" Surprise, Surprise!!! We weren't going to play football in any league. Father had decided to drop football.
Over the years, there has been much speculation about why Fr. Koch made the decision to drop football, but no "official" reason was ever given. (I have my own theory!) Father Arimond, in his book about Loyola Academy football, says that there was a tradition, in earlier years, of Ignatius being a true powerhouse in football, but, by the time I got here, that tradition was something of a distant memory. For the 40 years following that fateful meeting in the spring of '63, Ignatius had NO football team.
I loved teaching at Saint Ignatius, but I had decided to teach in high school because I wanted to coach football. What now? While not all of the coaches taught at Ignatius, we all shared a love of the sport, and our reactions were some combination of confusion, sadness and anger.
While I was still licking my emotional wounds, Carmen Pintozzi had adjusted by taking the job as the cross-country coach and assistant track coach. I still refer to that as one of the great examples of casting against type in all of coaching, comparable to Kristi Yamaguchi becoming a defensive line coach in football, but he was very good at it. (Who knows? Maybe Kristi would be good too.) I still claim that some of the boys ran "cross" because they thought that they might turn out to be like Mr. Pintozzi.
One of the other coaches, Don Lucas was a most interesting guy. I would say, with admiration, he was a character, probably worthy of an article all his own. He told me that he had asked for, and received, permission from Fr. Koch to start a school baseball team. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's when baseball started at Ignatius, and "Luke", as he was affectionately nick-named, started it all. Now, I can't be sure that Ignatius didn't have a baseball team earlier. If that's the case, for the sake of accuracy, then that's when baseball returned. I had played a fair amount of baseball in my earlier life (by that time I was nearly 24), and I told Luke that if he wanted, I'd be happy to help. Truth be told, I had played very little "baseball", but I had played a tremendous amount of softball.
Don was the varsity baseball coach for 3 years. He was the type of person who saw few, if any, limitations to what he might try. I've always admired people like that. He was not arrogant, but he also never concerned himself with the possibility of looking foolish if he failed.
He bought the teams' uniforms on Maxwell Street, and when he coached, he would wear his Ignatius uniform except for the wing-tip brown shoes that he continued to sport on the field, even while he was hitting fungoes. In bad weather, he would hold practice in the "4th floor gym" (which is now the school library), and the players would practice batting, using wiffle balls. But despite his "unusual" style, Don's teams did quite well.
Following the 1965 school year, Don left Ignatius to take a job with the city. His roll was
filled for the next 4 years by Bob Gabric, followed by me for one year, then Greg Klatecki. I'll leave the research on the succession of baseball coaches after that to others.
PLAY BALL!!!
In the spring of 1963, the football coaching staff was invited to dinner at school following an afternoon of spring practice. After that, we were to meet with Fr. Koch, the president of St. Ignatius. It was a good meal, but it didn't make up for what was to follow. At that meeting, Fr. Koch told us that St. Ignatius was leaving the Chicago Catholic League and would join the Chicagoland Prep League in every sport but football. The most obvious question was, "In what league would we be playing football, Father?" Surprise, Surprise!!! We weren't going to play football in any league. Father had decided to drop football.
Over the years, there has been much speculation about why Fr. Koch made the decision to drop football, but no "official" reason was ever given. (I have my own theory!) Father Arimond, in his book about Loyola Academy football, says that there was a tradition, in earlier years, of Ignatius being a true powerhouse in football, but, by the time I got here, that tradition was something of a distant memory. For the 40 years following that fateful meeting in the spring of '63, Ignatius had NO football team.
I loved teaching at Saint Ignatius, but I had decided to teach in high school because I wanted to coach football. What now? While not all of the coaches taught at Ignatius, we all shared a love of the sport, and our reactions were some combination of confusion, sadness and anger.
While I was still licking my emotional wounds, Carmen Pintozzi had adjusted by taking the job as the cross-country coach and assistant track coach. I still refer to that as one of the great examples of casting against type in all of coaching, comparable to Kristi Yamaguchi becoming a defensive line coach in football, but he was very good at it. (Who knows? Maybe Kristi would be good too.) I still claim that some of the boys ran "cross" because they thought that they might turn out to be like Mr. Pintozzi.
One of the other coaches, Don Lucas was a most interesting guy. I would say, with admiration, he was a character, probably worthy of an article all his own. He told me that he had asked for, and received, permission from Fr. Koch to start a school baseball team. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's when baseball started at Ignatius, and "Luke", as he was affectionately nick-named, started it all. Now, I can't be sure that Ignatius didn't have a baseball team earlier. If that's the case, for the sake of accuracy, then that's when baseball returned. I had played a fair amount of baseball in my earlier life (by that time I was nearly 24), and I told Luke that if he wanted, I'd be happy to help. Truth be told, I had played very little "baseball", but I had played a tremendous amount of softball.
Don was the varsity baseball coach for 3 years. He was the type of person who saw few, if any, limitations to what he might try. I've always admired people like that. He was not arrogant, but he also never concerned himself with the possibility of looking foolish if he failed.
He bought the teams' uniforms on Maxwell Street, and when he coached, he would wear his Ignatius uniform except for the wing-tip brown shoes that he continued to sport on the field, even while he was hitting fungoes. In bad weather, he would hold practice in the "4th floor gym" (which is now the school library), and the players would practice batting, using wiffle balls. But despite his "unusual" style, Don's teams did quite well.
Following the 1965 school year, Don left Ignatius to take a job with the city. His roll was
filled for the next 4 years by Bob Gabric, followed by me for one year, then Greg Klatecki. I'll leave the research on the succession of baseball coaches after that to others.
PLAY BALL!!!
Monday, March 14, 2011
In Defense of Lawyers
Reflection #12 (Only1064 to go!): In Defense of Lawyers
A couple of weeks ago, I spent a most delightful two hours in the company of some truly wonderful Ignatius alumni. The Saint Ignatius College Prep Law Society was having their annual luncheon and I was privileged to be invited to sit with a family that is dedicated to the practice of law in the city of Chicago, the Simon family.
I have heard more than my share of "lawyer" jokes, most of which are not funny and not deserved. (By the way, in Wisconsin, they say that there are some towns too small for one lawyer, but there are no towns too small for two lawyers! Ba-dum-bump!)
To my way of thinking, laws and lawyers (including judges) are the lynch-pins of our civilization (pun intended). What is more, with the God-given intelligence and moral background, instilled by their families and reinforced by their strong Jesuit training, I hold the men and women that attended this luncheon in the highest esteem.-
Now I have to say, in the interest of full disclosure, I, too, have had my disagreements with members of the legal profession. Happily, none were related to "criminal" actions on my part. One such “discussion” was related to the fact that I have been on seven (count ‘em: 7) juries, including a grand jury. Drawing an expression from my youth, I am both bragging and complaining. It is not that I am adverse to doing my civic duty, but the work involved in planning and preparation when I'd miss my classes is not a walk in the park. (Oh! That’s right! Teachers only work 4 hours a day for 9 months a year, and are paid a King’s Ransom...but we'll discuss that comment at another time.) Several of my friends have told me that they’ve never been called, but they would love to, usually adding that they thought it would be interesting. Trials usually are very interesting, but couldn't there be a more equitable way of distributing the "opportunity to exercise one's civic duty"? , siete, sieben
Getting back to my original point, lawyers are the referees/umpires of our culture that help define and keep order. They are the ones who must know the rules and determine whether a person's actions violate them. That is a monumental task. When I was on the grand jury, the states attorney for Will County explained that, not only are the number of laws daunting, but the complexity of laws can be all but overwhelming. The legislature frequently tries to "tweek" the conditions and stipulations relating to a "flawed" law rather than revamping it. While, for the purpose of fairness and equity, this can be good (not always), it increases the burden on law enforcement and the legal profession.
I recall my days as baseball coach, one umpire told me that there are 11 (or was 13?) ways to commit a balk. The umpire had to know all of the ways to commit a balk, and make the judgment whether a balk had been committed. The ramifications of making an error in that setting are minor. The legal profession deals with our entire culture, and frequently with life-altering consequences. For better or worse, I applaud their work.
Anyway, I was in the company of people whose acquaintance and, even friendship, I cherish, and I thank my hosts for allowing me to be present.
A couple of weeks ago, I spent a most delightful two hours in the company of some truly wonderful Ignatius alumni. The Saint Ignatius College Prep Law Society was having their annual luncheon and I was privileged to be invited to sit with a family that is dedicated to the practice of law in the city of Chicago, the Simon family.
I have heard more than my share of "lawyer" jokes, most of which are not funny and not deserved. (By the way, in Wisconsin, they say that there are some towns too small for one lawyer, but there are no towns too small for two lawyers! Ba-dum-bump!)
To my way of thinking, laws and lawyers (including judges) are the lynch-pins of our civilization (pun intended). What is more, with the God-given intelligence and moral background, instilled by their families and reinforced by their strong Jesuit training, I hold the men and women that attended this luncheon in the highest esteem.-
Now I have to say, in the interest of full disclosure, I, too, have had my disagreements with members of the legal profession. Happily, none were related to "criminal" actions on my part. One such “discussion” was related to the fact that I have been on seven (count ‘em: 7) juries, including a grand jury. Drawing an expression from my youth, I am both bragging and complaining. It is not that I am adverse to doing my civic duty, but the work involved in planning and preparation when I'd miss my classes is not a walk in the park. (Oh! That’s right! Teachers only work 4 hours a day for 9 months a year, and are paid a King’s Ransom...but we'll discuss that comment at another time.) Several of my friends have told me that they’ve never been called, but they would love to, usually adding that they thought it would be interesting. Trials usually are very interesting, but couldn't there be a more equitable way of distributing the "opportunity to exercise one's civic duty"? , siete, sieben
Getting back to my original point, lawyers are the referees/umpires of our culture that help define and keep order. They are the ones who must know the rules and determine whether a person's actions violate them. That is a monumental task. When I was on the grand jury, the states attorney for Will County explained that, not only are the number of laws daunting, but the complexity of laws can be all but overwhelming. The legislature frequently tries to "tweek" the conditions and stipulations relating to a "flawed" law rather than revamping it. While, for the purpose of fairness and equity, this can be good (not always), it increases the burden on law enforcement and the legal profession.
I recall my days as baseball coach, one umpire told me that there are 11 (or was 13?) ways to commit a balk. The umpire had to know all of the ways to commit a balk, and make the judgment whether a balk had been committed. The ramifications of making an error in that setting are minor. The legal profession deals with our entire culture, and frequently with life-altering consequences. For better or worse, I applaud their work.
Anyway, I was in the company of people whose acquaintance and, even friendship, I cherish, and I thank my hosts for allowing me to be present.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Cliches to Live By
Blog #11 (Only 1075 to go!): Clichés to Live By!
This could make some of you sick with envy, but I must tell you that for 25 years, everyday I drove Frank Raispis to, and frequently from, school. I also have to tell you that it was all that you might imagine.
There was a lot of casual conversation, laughing as we relived old Jack Benny radio programs, reflected on events at school, and, not infrequently, I'd ask him about the classical derivations of words. For those of you who know Frank well, you’ll also recognize one of his habits. He will start an answer, then stop talking as he formulates the rest of his thoughts. For my part, I would pretty-much stop breathing until he started to talk again. More than once, I nearly drove off of the road, light-headed from lack of oxygen.
But I digress. One of the great joys of the experience for me was getting a better understanding of what Frank’s personal philosophy was. It was never presented as a formal tenet. He would simply state an opinion or respond to a question about how he felt on some issue, school related or just life in general.
On one occasion, he was reacting negatively about something, then suddenly stopped and scolded himself for failing to view another person's motive in a positive light. Over that time, as we chatted, I compiled a list of “Clichés to Live By”, a collection of principles that we thought would be good to follow. Frank would give me his assessment of some life's-lesson, and I would rephrase it and write it down.
Rule # 1: Assume the best motive behind each person's action.
I must admit that, while rule #1 is not as easy at it might seem, I do try to follow it. I also recognize its counter-part which says, "No matter how cynical I get (about society), I never seem to be able to keep up."
One more Frank story; one that I've told before: Many years ago, Fr. Meirose, Fr. Menke, and I were passing a place in northern Wisconsin where Frank was vacationing*. We stopped in to visit him for a few days. One of the mornings, I saw Frank picking berries for a dessert treat he was preparing for that evening. I asked him what he was thinking about as he went through that monotonous task. He said, as he picked each berry, he wondered whether that particular berry would be the best berry he'd pick that day. Then he'd move to the next berry with the same thought.
I was fascinated that a scholar and award-winning educator would be thinking about the quality of each individual berry as he picked them, but I set the thought aside as just "interesting". Upon further reflection, I realize how critical that "skill" is in Frank's make-up, and how hard it is for some people (me) to master. In theater, I think it's called "being in the moment". Again, not as easy as it seems.
*For those of you old enough, it was an island owned by Ernie Schmidt's family. Ernie was a math teacher at Ignatius from the mid-40's until he died
on the first day of school in 1966.
This could make some of you sick with envy, but I must tell you that for 25 years, everyday I drove Frank Raispis to, and frequently from, school. I also have to tell you that it was all that you might imagine.
There was a lot of casual conversation, laughing as we relived old Jack Benny radio programs, reflected on events at school, and, not infrequently, I'd ask him about the classical derivations of words. For those of you who know Frank well, you’ll also recognize one of his habits. He will start an answer, then stop talking as he formulates the rest of his thoughts. For my part, I would pretty-much stop breathing until he started to talk again. More than once, I nearly drove off of the road, light-headed from lack of oxygen.
But I digress. One of the great joys of the experience for me was getting a better understanding of what Frank’s personal philosophy was. It was never presented as a formal tenet. He would simply state an opinion or respond to a question about how he felt on some issue, school related or just life in general.
On one occasion, he was reacting negatively about something, then suddenly stopped and scolded himself for failing to view another person's motive in a positive light. Over that time, as we chatted, I compiled a list of “Clichés to Live By”, a collection of principles that we thought would be good to follow. Frank would give me his assessment of some life's-lesson, and I would rephrase it and write it down.
Rule # 1: Assume the best motive behind each person's action.
I must admit that, while rule #1 is not as easy at it might seem, I do try to follow it. I also recognize its counter-part which says, "No matter how cynical I get (about society), I never seem to be able to keep up."
One more Frank story; one that I've told before: Many years ago, Fr. Meirose, Fr. Menke, and I were passing a place in northern Wisconsin where Frank was vacationing*. We stopped in to visit him for a few days. One of the mornings, I saw Frank picking berries for a dessert treat he was preparing for that evening. I asked him what he was thinking about as he went through that monotonous task. He said, as he picked each berry, he wondered whether that particular berry would be the best berry he'd pick that day. Then he'd move to the next berry with the same thought.
I was fascinated that a scholar and award-winning educator would be thinking about the quality of each individual berry as he picked them, but I set the thought aside as just "interesting". Upon further reflection, I realize how critical that "skill" is in Frank's make-up, and how hard it is for some people (me) to master. In theater, I think it's called "being in the moment". Again, not as easy as it seems.
*For those of you old enough, it was an island owned by Ernie Schmidt's family. Ernie was a math teacher at Ignatius from the mid-40's until he died
on the first day of school in 1966.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Father Menke
Blog #10--(Only 1066 to go!): Fr. Menke
After nearly fifty years of association with Saint Ignatius High School/College Prep, I have met, and enjoyed the friendship of many Jesuits, but none more so than Father George Menke, S.J. I was excited when I received an email from Mike Ulmer (’72), containing a newspaper article about Fr. Menke. Mike lives in Indianapolis and found this article in the Indianapolis Star.
The following is a brief summary of Mr./Fr. Menke‘s history at Saint Ignatius:
Mr. Menke, as he was called in 1967, came to Ignatius as a scholastic. He left in 1974 to complete his studies for the priesthood. After ordination, he returned in 1977 for 20 years before taking on his next assignment at Brebeuf in Indianapolis. Over those 30 years, he was the freshmen basketball team coach for one year, my assistant as athletic director for two years, and soccer coach for underclass boys and girls teams for many years, all the while teaching Spanish.
He was pure Cincinnati, saying, “Please?”, when he meant, “What?”, and hassling me about why the Cincinnati Reds were VASTLY superior to the Cubs. Our friendship grew rapidly when he was the freshmen basketball coach and as assistant athletic director. My years as AD were interesting. The school was low on funds. I had neither the training nor experience for the job, and I was suppose to be the “boss” of Dr. Malliard, Fr. “Moos” and Bob Gabric, among others. Each was a very successful coach, but very demanding. George, bless his soul, was there to back me up and, not infrequently, pick me up. It wasn’t pretty, but we survived...barely.
Over his years, there were many stories told...lovingly...about Father, but one of my favorites will probably have the most meaning if you knew him; it's an example of his spirit and loyalty. After "Mister" Menke stopped coaching the freshmen b-ball team, he became a permanent fixture at the scorer's table during the games. Terry Smyrniotis ('72) reminded me of how George would holler, "Judas Priest, Ref!" after a questionable call. Since George was sitting near the announcer's "mike", his dulcet tones would fill the gym "from on high", as if it were the Lord Himself speaking. When the assemblage finally realized what they had just heard, and they were able to get their heart rates below 150, there was a round of giggles and smiles from everyone but the refs.
In 1977, he returned as “Fr. Menke”, taught Spanish and became the soccer coach for the underclassmen, then went on to Brebeuf. According to the article, Fr. Menke has taken on an iconic status at Brebeuf High School.
It seems to be a part of the human condition that, when people's paths separate, they lose contact. Having read the article reminded of what a good friend Fr. George Menke was to me and to Ignatius, and I'm pretty sure that I never told him that while he was here. I think I'll write him a note and tell him.
(I’ve included the code for the attachment, but I doubt that it’s going to be enough to allow someone to pull up that article. Maybe those of you more versed in electronic technology will be able to find it.
http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2011102030340
After nearly fifty years of association with Saint Ignatius High School/College Prep, I have met, and enjoyed the friendship of many Jesuits, but none more so than Father George Menke, S.J. I was excited when I received an email from Mike Ulmer (’72), containing a newspaper article about Fr. Menke. Mike lives in Indianapolis and found this article in the Indianapolis Star.
The following is a brief summary of Mr./Fr. Menke‘s history at Saint Ignatius:
Mr. Menke, as he was called in 1967, came to Ignatius as a scholastic. He left in 1974 to complete his studies for the priesthood. After ordination, he returned in 1977 for 20 years before taking on his next assignment at Brebeuf in Indianapolis. Over those 30 years, he was the freshmen basketball team coach for one year, my assistant as athletic director for two years, and soccer coach for underclass boys and girls teams for many years, all the while teaching Spanish.
He was pure Cincinnati, saying, “Please?”, when he meant, “What?”, and hassling me about why the Cincinnati Reds were VASTLY superior to the Cubs. Our friendship grew rapidly when he was the freshmen basketball coach and as assistant athletic director. My years as AD were interesting. The school was low on funds. I had neither the training nor experience for the job, and I was suppose to be the “boss” of Dr. Malliard, Fr. “Moos” and Bob Gabric, among others. Each was a very successful coach, but very demanding. George, bless his soul, was there to back me up and, not infrequently, pick me up. It wasn’t pretty, but we survived...barely.
Over his years, there were many stories told...lovingly...about Father, but one of my favorites will probably have the most meaning if you knew him; it's an example of his spirit and loyalty. After "Mister" Menke stopped coaching the freshmen b-ball team, he became a permanent fixture at the scorer's table during the games. Terry Smyrniotis ('72) reminded me of how George would holler, "Judas Priest, Ref!" after a questionable call. Since George was sitting near the announcer's "mike", his dulcet tones would fill the gym "from on high", as if it were the Lord Himself speaking. When the assemblage finally realized what they had just heard, and they were able to get their heart rates below 150, there was a round of giggles and smiles from everyone but the refs.
In 1977, he returned as “Fr. Menke”, taught Spanish and became the soccer coach for the underclassmen, then went on to Brebeuf. According to the article, Fr. Menke has taken on an iconic status at Brebeuf High School.
It seems to be a part of the human condition that, when people's paths separate, they lose contact. Having read the article reminded of what a good friend Fr. George Menke was to me and to Ignatius, and I'm pretty sure that I never told him that while he was here. I think I'll write him a note and tell him.
(I’ve included the code for the attachment, but I doubt that it’s going to be enough to allow someone to pull up that article. Maybe those of you more versed in electronic technology will be able to find it.
http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2011102030340
Monday, January 31, 2011
Box The End
Reminiscence # 9-Only 1067 to go: "Box the End"
In the musical comedy The King And I , Anna sings:
"It's a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you'll be taught."
I've already admitted that I was the freshmen football coach in the fall of '62. I'm not sure of the wisdom of identifying a player as "favorite", but judging by the fact that he was elected class president in his senior year, apparently he was the favorite of many. I'm referring to John Rowan.
Forty-nine years have faded my memory about that freshmen team and season, but, if I recall correctly, John was a co-captain and the defensive left-end. This "reminiscence", however, is not about praising John. Rather, it's about an incident, and how I learned a little bit more about teaching.
The learning-point started at our best-be-forgotten game against Gordon Tech, at that time a real powerhouse in the Catholic League. A problem that we had...one of many...was that our opponents were picking up huge gains running around John's side of the field. Each time John came off the field, I would go up to John and say, "John, Box the end!" Each time John assured me that he was "boxing the end". For those who don't understand the terminology, boxing-the-end was a phrase used to describe the path that the defensive end should take after the ball was snapped. I don't know if the terminology or technique is still used. Anyway, we lost. (Never mind what the score was; it's not pertinent to the story.)
Toward the end of John's senior year, he and I were standing watching an Ignatius baseball game when we got to talking about the freshmen football season. John told me that each time I'd implore him to "box the end", he'd go back on to the field, and, at the snap of the ball, he'd run up to the opposing end and punch him. Finally, he asked one of the other players what boxing-the-end meant. In fairness to John, I really don't think that it would have had much of an impact on the outcome if he had known the true meaning at the beginning of the game. I do wonder what the opposing end thought each time this guy ran up to him and punched him.
Nonetheless, from that time on, I came to realize that "words" don't necessarily mean the same thing to everybody. Now, when I teach my summer school math class to in-coming freshmen, one of the first lessons is a vocabulary list of math terms. I don't want them "boxing the end."
In the musical comedy The King And I , Anna sings:
"It's a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you'll be taught."
I've already admitted that I was the freshmen football coach in the fall of '62. I'm not sure of the wisdom of identifying a player as "favorite", but judging by the fact that he was elected class president in his senior year, apparently he was the favorite of many. I'm referring to John Rowan.
Forty-nine years have faded my memory about that freshmen team and season, but, if I recall correctly, John was a co-captain and the defensive left-end. This "reminiscence", however, is not about praising John. Rather, it's about an incident, and how I learned a little bit more about teaching.
The learning-point started at our best-be-forgotten game against Gordon Tech, at that time a real powerhouse in the Catholic League. A problem that we had...one of many...was that our opponents were picking up huge gains running around John's side of the field. Each time John came off the field, I would go up to John and say, "John, Box the end!" Each time John assured me that he was "boxing the end". For those who don't understand the terminology, boxing-the-end was a phrase used to describe the path that the defensive end should take after the ball was snapped. I don't know if the terminology or technique is still used. Anyway, we lost. (Never mind what the score was; it's not pertinent to the story.)
Toward the end of John's senior year, he and I were standing watching an Ignatius baseball game when we got to talking about the freshmen football season. John told me that each time I'd implore him to "box the end", he'd go back on to the field, and, at the snap of the ball, he'd run up to the opposing end and punch him. Finally, he asked one of the other players what boxing-the-end meant. In fairness to John, I really don't think that it would have had much of an impact on the outcome if he had known the true meaning at the beginning of the game. I do wonder what the opposing end thought each time this guy ran up to him and punched him.
Nonetheless, from that time on, I came to realize that "words" don't necessarily mean the same thing to everybody. Now, when I teach my summer school math class to in-coming freshmen, one of the first lessons is a vocabulary list of math terms. I don't want them "boxing the end."
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Class of 1967
Blog #8--(Only 1068 to go!): The Class of '67
It's not uncommon for alumni to meet regularly with members of their graduating class, usually consisting of friends they had when they were students. There is one class that I find quite unique. From the title of this reflection, you'd probably guessed that it's the class of '67.
While they were students at Saint Ignatius, they had their share of successes and also “suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” like most other classes. What sets them apart, and makes them a favorite of mine, is what they’ve done in the last 15 years.
A sizeable subset (math speak) from the class of 1967 has regular gatherings, and the “guest list” is only limited only by class members whose email addresses or phone numbers they have. In February, 2010, they were the first alumni class to meet at the Fornelli Alumni Hall for a pizza dinner, followed by watching an Ignatius basketball game. They were so taken with the room that they decided to chip in for furniture and other accessories to make the room even nicer. To that end, they intend to have a BBQ cook-out in spring
Last year, they attended the Saint Ignatius Golf Outing as group, went to a White Sox baseball game, and saw racing at Hawthorne Race , during which the 7th race was named in their honor.
Besides planning to buy furniture for the alumni room, they sponsored one of their classmates, Gus Mauro, in a 30 mile bike ride, contributing $3000 to the school’s financial aid program. For the record, their purpose is not fund-raising. The main thrust is to get together, maintain their friendships and catch up with how each one is doing. Even class members who live far away, keep in touch via email (of course).
Not every idea works. Since each of the men turned "60" (Yikes!!!) a year ago, one idea was to have a group birthday party. I thought it was a great idea, but it didn’t get off the ground. That didn't dampen the spirit of these loyal Ignatians. While, more often than not, the idea for the gatherings starts with Joe "I've never had a thought that I haven't acted on." Fisher , that's not always the case, and everyone contributes to the success of the events with their attendance and ideas.
The "efficient cause" (Is that one of St. Thomas Aquinas' "causes"?) is Marc Petrone, who sends out the notices for each event via email (of course).
So, in closing, I say: Keep going, guys! You’re doing great.If there are any other members of the class of '67 that want to be a part of this group, let me or Sean Maccready know. We'll get your name to Marc.
It's not uncommon for alumni to meet regularly with members of their graduating class, usually consisting of friends they had when they were students. There is one class that I find quite unique. From the title of this reflection, you'd probably guessed that it's the class of '67.
While they were students at Saint Ignatius, they had their share of successes and also “suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” like most other classes. What sets them apart, and makes them a favorite of mine, is what they’ve done in the last 15 years.
A sizeable subset (math speak) from the class of 1967 has regular gatherings, and the “guest list” is only limited only by class members whose email addresses or phone numbers they have. In February, 2010, they were the first alumni class to meet at the Fornelli Alumni Hall for a pizza dinner, followed by watching an Ignatius basketball game. They were so taken with the room that they decided to chip in for furniture and other accessories to make the room even nicer. To that end, they intend to have a BBQ cook-out in spring
Last year, they attended the Saint Ignatius Golf Outing as group, went to a White Sox baseball game, and saw racing at Hawthorne Race , during which the 7th race was named in their honor.
Besides planning to buy furniture for the alumni room, they sponsored one of their classmates, Gus Mauro, in a 30 mile bike ride, contributing $3000 to the school’s financial aid program. For the record, their purpose is not fund-raising. The main thrust is to get together, maintain their friendships and catch up with how each one is doing. Even class members who live far away, keep in touch via email (of course).
Not every idea works. Since each of the men turned "60" (Yikes!!!) a year ago, one idea was to have a group birthday party. I thought it was a great idea, but it didn’t get off the ground. That didn't dampen the spirit of these loyal Ignatians. While, more often than not, the idea for the gatherings starts with Joe "I've never had a thought that I haven't acted on." Fisher , that's not always the case, and everyone contributes to the success of the events with their attendance and ideas.
The "efficient cause" (Is that one of St. Thomas Aquinas' "causes"?) is Marc Petrone, who sends out the notices for each event via email (of course).
So, in closing, I say: Keep going, guys! You’re doing great.If there are any other members of the class of '67 that want to be a part of this group, let me or Sean Maccready know. We'll get your name to Marc.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
My Good Fortune
Blog #7--(Only 1069 to go!): My Good Fortune This reflection is prompted by a very nice note that I received from a friend, who happens also to be the mother of a former student of mine. Her note reminded me of how fortunate I've been to spend my life teaching at Saint Ignatius.
The story of how I came to teach at Saint Ignatius High School (as it was known then) isn't particularly interesting to anyone except me, but I'd have to say that it was the result of many coincidences and much good fortune. I didn't even know that there was a Saint Ignatius High School until just before I signed the contract. Being a north-sider, the only "Saint Ignatius" that I was aware of was the parish near Devon and Sheridan.
I have often said that if you can't teach at Saint Ignatius, you can't teach. The truth is that I've never taught at any other high school, so that's just speculation on my part. More than a few teachers from other schools have chided me, making the point that anyone can teach "smart" kids. I KNOW!!! AIN'T IT GREAT?
But I digress (yet again). To me, what makes Ignatius a great place to work is the quality of the people with whom I have come in contact. This includes students, parents, colleagues, administrators and staff. My joy and satisfaction wasn’t tied to working with “smart kids”. It was linked to the support of those around me. At Ignatius, I received that support as well as assistance, friendship, counsel and even the "benefit of the doubt" when things didn‘t go as planned.
When Frank Raispis and I formulated a list of "clichés to live by”, rule #1 was, “View everyone’s actions in the best possible light.” Over my soon-to-be 50 year involvement with Saint Ignatius, the students have been respectful and the parents generally appreciative. Even when I fell short, most parents seemed to accept the fact that I was giving my best effort. In that time, I don’t think that I had even a dozen “uncom-fortable” encounters, and about half of those I felt were justified. It is true that not everyone has the same agenda, so, while I felt “innocent”, it was easy to understand the parent’s discontent. At parent conferences, I always felt that I was meeting with a friend; that’s a good feeling when you’re working with someone else’s child.
To sum up: Thank you, one-and-all.
The story of how I came to teach at Saint Ignatius High School (as it was known then) isn't particularly interesting to anyone except me, but I'd have to say that it was the result of many coincidences and much good fortune. I didn't even know that there was a Saint Ignatius High School until just before I signed the contract. Being a north-sider, the only "Saint Ignatius" that I was aware of was the parish near Devon and Sheridan.
I have often said that if you can't teach at Saint Ignatius, you can't teach. The truth is that I've never taught at any other high school, so that's just speculation on my part. More than a few teachers from other schools have chided me, making the point that anyone can teach "smart" kids. I KNOW!!! AIN'T IT GREAT?
But I digress (yet again). To me, what makes Ignatius a great place to work is the quality of the people with whom I have come in contact. This includes students, parents, colleagues, administrators and staff. My joy and satisfaction wasn’t tied to working with “smart kids”. It was linked to the support of those around me. At Ignatius, I received that support as well as assistance, friendship, counsel and even the "benefit of the doubt" when things didn‘t go as planned.
When Frank Raispis and I formulated a list of "clichés to live by”, rule #1 was, “View everyone’s actions in the best possible light.” Over my soon-to-be 50 year involvement with Saint Ignatius, the students have been respectful and the parents generally appreciative. Even when I fell short, most parents seemed to accept the fact that I was giving my best effort. In that time, I don’t think that I had even a dozen “uncom-fortable” encounters, and about half of those I felt were justified. It is true that not everyone has the same agenda, so, while I felt “innocent”, it was easy to understand the parent’s discontent. At parent conferences, I always felt that I was meeting with a friend; that’s a good feeling when you’re working with someone else’s child.
To sum up: Thank you, one-and-all.
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