Mr. McFlaggen, the History teacher and basketball coach, was talking to Mr. Malkin, the Art teacher, in the cafeteria while they watched over the seventh-grade monkeys as they wolfed down their nearly inedible pizza slices.
McFlaggen; What do you know about that girl Cindy Hootch? The kinda ugly one that is so quiet and never sits with anybody else at lunch?
Malkin; It doesn’t help to think of her as ugly, Flag. You should see her watercolors on newsprint. She has a beautiful soul. She’s very smart. And she won’t talk to you in front of the class, but one-on-one, she’s got a real way with words.
McFlaggen; The important thing is how smart is she? Can she tutor Math? Could she help my star point guard get at least a C in old Krautmeyer’s Math class?
Malkin; How do you see Claussen’s intelligence? Is your point guard capable of understanding her if she tried to teach him how to multiply fractions?
McFlaggen; Frankie is dumb as a rock. He really needs a way to cheat on tests so that he can stay eligible to play all basketball season.
Malkin: Stephanie won’t cheat. She’s smart and gets good grades. But she has had a good moral upbringing. Have you met her parents? They are church people, and good parents to their five kids as far as I can see. If you ask her, she will probably tutor him willingly. But success is not only up to her. Your basketball player will have to put in the work.
McFlaggen; Well, the problem is, there are really only two kinds of kids. There are the dumb lumps like Frankie that no matter what you do, you cannot get those kids to do anything to help themselves, even in matters of life or death. And then there are some kids you can force to accomplish anything if you just push them hard enough in the right direction. Kids like your little painter, Miss Hootch.
Malkin; I think you will find, coach, that there are definitely two kinds of teachers too. You have the kind who are convinced that all kids are basically bad and need to be shaped like a stone-cutter would, grinding away the parts that make them bad, and if the process fails, you throw the unfortunate kid on the worthless pile and leave them to their fates.
McFlaggen; Do you mean, Gray, that there is another kind of teacher? Aren’t we all like that?
Malkin: Ah, Don, there is another kind. Some teachers, rare I grant you, see all kids as good, the seeds of what they are destined to become. We only need to plant them in fertile surroundings, give them the attention they need, and allow them to bloom in the way nature intended. That’s what makes Stephanie Hootch such a beautiful blossom.
McFlaggen; You are such an Art teacher, Gray. A real romantic filled entirely with dog poop.
Malkin; Maybe so. But in the long run you will see who’s right about kids.
McFlaggen; So, where’s this Hootch girl now? I need to push her into tutoring my player.
Malkin: She’s there, blooming next to Vice Principal Wiggan.
Catch a Falling Star 