The Unquiet Teacher Brain

Yesterday, as I was reviewing a movie that is almost as old as I am (in December, 1961 I was 5), I couldn’t help but think like a teacher.  If I were going to teach this movie as a piece of literature (and movies ARE literature!  Don’t argue with me!!!), I would start with an anticipation guide… or I could call it a lesson focus.  I would tell the students a little bit about why this movie is important to me.  I would give the background information about how Walt Disney wanted to make a musical picture like The Wizard of Oz, and even bought the rights to Oz books by Frank L. Baum to make it happen.  It was supposed to be a starring vehicle for his popular Mickey Mouse Club Mouseketeers, and ended up starring Annette Funicello (and I would never mention anything about my childhood desire to see Annette naked because information like that mixed with giggle-happy teens and hormones is an explosive mix and would get me fired).  I would also start a discussion of heroes and villains and what sort of patterns we might anticipate as the story went down that well-traveled path of the hero (I might mention some of Joseph Campbell’s work on myths because it is almost relevant enough to fit in the lesson… and it would not get me fired).  But, suddenly, I realize as the teacher-brain machinery is churning on this idea… I am no longer a teacher.  I am retired.  I am not even well enough to go be a substitute teacher for a day or two.  And besides, Texas principals all frown on showing movies in class when you could be doing worksheets to prepare for State STAAR Tests.  And Disney sues teachers for using their copyrighted materials in the classroom because, well… evil fascist corporate empire ruled by a mouse, right?  So I am bummed.

When do you stop thinking like a teacher so much that it hurts?  Probably never.  I got even with Fate just a little bit by writing the novel Magical Miss Morgan, in which I gave some of my old lesson plans to the fictional version of me as a teacher (the version of me that is not a cartoon rabbit as a teacher).  I had Miss Morgan teach a class of sixth graders about J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, and tried to incorporate some of my goofier teaching ideas into the story as evidence that Miss M is, in fact, a very good teacher (hard to fake if you are not a good enough teacher to at least recognize what good classroom practices look like).  And I had enough fun pretending to be a female teacher with goofy imaginary students like Mike and Blueberry in the Paffooney above, enough fun to create what I think is my best work of fiction so far.  I submitted it to the Chanticleer Book Reviews YA novel-writing contest.  I have to wait like 30 years to find out if I failed to win anything… but that’s okay.  Doing it quelled the unbridled teacher spirit in me that keeps threatening to kick down the stall gate and run away from the safety of the brain barn in the middle of a tornado… or something equally horsey but dangerous.  So, I guess I am okay for the moment.  But what do I do next when the teacher brain in me fires up and goes into overdrive yet again?

Ah well, I will think of something.