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!!!
Friday, April 1, 2011
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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