Date: Fri, 4 Oct 1996 21:37:06 -0400 (EDT)
Subject: Random Thought: A Poem

TGIF! It's late in the afternoon. Everyone has gone home. A rough week has come to a surprisingly serene end no thanks to me, but thanks to a couple of student one of whom I do not know. All week I had been letting what I'll vaguely call campus "stuff" get to me and kicking myself for letting that "stuff" get to me.

Anyway, one of the non-traditional students--I'll call him John--in one of my classes came up to me this morning and handed me a wrinkled envelop. It's edge was ripped open. "Something's bugging you, almost got you down, even though you're doing a damn good job of hiding it from most of us. Well, read this. It's what's in here that makes you really important on this campus.

He caught me off-guard. I thanked him and put the envelop in my pocket. I forgot about it for a moment as I went back to the office. I turned on the tape to listen to _Les Miserables_, unwrapped a Tootsie Pop and put my feet on the desk. Remembering his offering, as the melodic "Empty Chairs and Empty Tables" drifted out, I non-chalantly took the envelop from my pocket, took out the few pieces of paper on which it turns out was anonymously typed an original poem written by a student in one of my summer quarter classes. As I read it, my nonchalance became a gratitude for both John and the anonymous student. I felt myself being restored, uplifted, getting back on track, my perspective rightened, my balance re-established, an inner peace overwhelming me.

You see, to get a true and honest--and meaningful--evaluation from the students about the goings-on of my classes for other students, at the end of each quarter I have each student in my classes write a sealed letter to a student in the coming quarter's classes in which he/she can write about anything they wish about themselves, me, the class, etc.--good, bad or indifferent, signed or unsigned, win, lose, or draw. I distribute these letters on the first day of class believing that students will accept the word of their peers as truth far quicker than anything I could say or do. I never get to see the real scoop one student writes to another. This poem is the sole exception. I wish I knew who he or she was that wrote it. But, it doesn't really matter except that I owe him or her for being my teacher, putting me in my place and back on track. I do not share it to toot my horn although I'm sure some will think so. I share to give an otherwise hidden student's eye view of my set of values, my sense of mission, my vision, and some of what I struggle to do. Here's what the unknown student wrote:

I'm supposed to tell you something about the Doc's history class and him. I decided to compose a poem for you. I've never done this before, but Dr. Schmier has taught me the value to risk stretching. It's not important whether the poem is good or not, just so I try to write it. By the end of the quarter you'll understnad what I'm saying. So here goes. Good luck you're in for one hell of a journey:

You probably said, just like me, that Dr. Schmier's class is a breeze. 
You probably said,"I hear there are no quizzes or tests or exams.  I can
sit in ease." 

You probably thought, just like me, in his class you've got it made.
You probably said, "They say he doesn't believe in giving a grade."

So, we signed up for the class and found we were wrong.
Not only is it hard and demanding, stretching and challenging,
but we had to sit in a chair different ways and then sing a song.

This class was not the usual lecturing bore
There's fun, excitement, joy, and laughter galore,

And there's more behind this history door.
 
We write and act out skits 
We debate and argue about issues in the tidbits
We make up games and draw.
We even scavenge for objects on every floor.

Oh, you'll soon learn that there's no mystery
to why you unexpectedly learned so much history

For ten years from now when one brings up a historical idea or a name,
you'll know what or who it is from that tidbit argument, scavenger hunt, 
the drawing, a short story, or the game

Oh, there's not only you, I might add,
but you and two others in your group called a triad
The class will be mixed together in groups of threes 
So many at first like me ask reluctantly and annoyingly, even protest 
"Depend on someone else?  Be responsible for someone else? Please!"

You're mixed together by gender and race
So, you'll will learn to respect the other's place
You're mixed together and are responsible for the others' success
Now that's what I call a real test.

Yet, as if by magic many wounds of our suspicions and prejudice
magically start to mend
during the quarter we each become the others' true friend
And before you know it, it starts to begin
that many come to start feeling like a close family of helping kin.

You can get an "A", though I've got one little caution
You must do you best, he won't settle for half a portion

You'll make yourself act and look like a jerk
if you think he or anyone will let you hang on a coatail and do no work.

You'll find the midnight oil must burn
He ONLY wants you to stop settling for passing a test and making a grade, 
He wants to start to understand and to truly learn

And the best, he says, is the only thing that you should give,
not just for this class, but that's how you should live.

And if you try to cut a corner or take a rest, 
or do less than what YOU deep-down honestly know is your best, 
do you know what you'll gain?
You'll hear him encouragingly and patiently emote, "Do it again."

So many of us came to college told that we really did not belong
Slowly he let us see for ourselves that they were wrong
One professor told me in so many words where I could go
when I told him, "I don't know." 

Not Dr. Louis
All that kind of shit is just a bunch of phooey.
Once I said to him, "I tried." Even accompanied it by crying.
He'll just quietly answered back confidently and firmly, 
"You can do it.  'Trying is lying.'"

The classroom has no back, or front, or side
And there's no place in this room to hide.
The Doc's not far away behind desk doing all the talking
He always among us listening and walking
He's always moving about and over every chair
with eyes looking everywhere
that tell you he has a care

Oh, at times I snarled, "don't care so much." 
At times I complained, "don't reach out to touch"
Oh, I uttered a curse, and screamed, "screw it!"
I remember him saying quietly with a supporting smile:  
"if you want it, it can be done; and if it can be done, 
just do what it takes to do it."

I'll always remember what this class in history and in life is about
Like Popeye and Schmier say, "the more youse puts in, the more youse gets out

He won't give you from yourself any relief
He won't allow you in yourself any disbelief

But, if you need help in learning how to study 
if you need help to clear up anything that's muddy
if you need help with how to think
don't whine.  Don't say, "I can't." Instead, go to him in a wink
if you need help in learning to do any this or that
He'll give you all of his time, any time, and that's a fact.

And on those days when you just need someone to listen 
and you just need to talk, 
you can always join Schmier with a Tootsie Pop on the hall floor 
or in the street on his 5:00 a.m. walk

And in the end what did I find?
That I've started to change as a person and develop in mind

And though this class took on my sleep a great toll
In the end, it paid off with growth in my soul

I now feel in my stomach a slight burn
No, it's not indigestion
It's the beginning of a yearning to learn

And do you learn!
....if you give yourself a chance and jump at your turn

To me, Dr. Schmier, is at the top,
and deserves a great big orange Tootsie Pop