I will be Slapped and the Ship will Sink

When my sister-in-law was at our house in mid-January, we played six-handed Euchre. As it usually is when we play cards, there is a lot of competitiveness at the table. No one wants to make a mistake; no one wants to be "euchered" which means points are awarded to the other team instead of your team. The way we play Euchre is to always play with the men on one team and the women on the other team. On that January day, the teams were 1) my father-in-law, 2) my brother-in-law, and 3) I. On the opposing team, it was The Women, which was 1) my favorite mother-in-law, 2) my sister-in-law, and 3) Karen. What I want to write about is what my sister-in-law said during the game after she lost a hand because I "bushed" and allowed her to name a suit of the cards as "trump" knowing that I could have done so, but didn't, because I wanted to earn more points. I knew I had a better hand than she did.

I love my sister-in-law to death. She and I get along great. She is an engineer and I like listening to the way she speaks about any subject with rigorous logic. I consider her to be one of my favorite sisters-in-law. She is competitive when we play cards. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised when she blurted out "F-ck!" when it became obvious how I had played my cards.

Yet, my father-in-law, my brother-in-law, my favorite mother-in-law, Karen and I were surprised to hear her say that word aloud. It was an emotional outburst and she was immediately embarrassed because she had said the "f" word aloud. It's not said aloud often. In fact, I've never heard my father-in-law say that word ... unless it was in the context of a joke about an old couple who went on a cruise. I've never heard my favorite mother-in-law say that word ... unless it was in the context of my father-in-law buying too many turkeys around Thanksgiving. I've never heard my brother-in-law say that word. Both Karen and I have used that word.

Still, using the "f" word is not part of my daily culture. I don't walk around, saying "F-ck!" at random times during the day, whether I'm at home or at work or some other place. Using that word is still taboo in my world. Certainly, I'm not a prude and even more certainly, you could search this blog and find the "f" word elsewhere on this blog.

I'm 50 years old which makes me old enough to remember when saying the "f" word aloud was frowned upon. I can vividly recall being in junior high when Eddie Murphy had a stand-up comedy special on HBO called "Delirious." It was a BIG deal to have seen that show because Murphy freely used the "f" word. Now, in 2020, I am writing this blog post because I saw the word being used on Buzzfeed.com within an article tease.

Which brings me to a question I want to ask. Look at the screen capture next to this paragraph and, within the screen capture, the text in the red box. I ask you in all sincerity: Do I want to live in a culture where the "f" word is used like it is "normal" to say it? I see doing so being a slippery slope. For example, when something goes wrong at work, would it ever be acceptable to exclaim, "That work was too f-cking terribly!" in a meeting with my peers? Would it ever be acceptable to hear children exclaim "That milk spilled way too f-cking fast!" when they spill a glass of milk at dinner. Would it ever be acceptable to be in a classroom and hear a student say "That got a way too f-cking terrible grade!" when being handed their work back to them? My answer is "No, I don't want to live in a culture where the "f" word is used like it is normal to say it."

Why do I feel like that? Is there something relevant in my past that relates to that Buzzfeed.com teaser text? In fact, yes, my past does have a relationship with the "f" word.

Let me tell you a true story.

In the fall of 1991 during student teaching. I was teaching Language Arts at a high school in Cedar Rapids, IA. I was a senior at Mount Mercy College (now Mount Mercy University) and I was going to graduate in May 1992 with a Bachelor's degree in English with a Secondary Education minor. I confess that I believed student teaching would be easy for me, that my students would listen to what I said and do what I said. I never considered that student teaching would be the fustercluck it ended up being. However, it started turning into a fustercluck during the first week of classes. This story begins in my second hour class, where I was teaching a sophomore-level Language Arts class. It was a core requirement class - everyone had to take the class in order to graduate.

Let me set the scene.

Imagine a classroom with 27 students. There is an open classroom window. All of a sudden, a bee flies into the room. Jayci B, who sat in the front row, started to freak out about the bee. Maybe she was allergic to bees; maybe she was scared of bees. Regardless, it caused another student, Jeremy H to react. Jeremy H sat in front of Jayci B. He turned around in his chair and angrily said in a very loud voice to Jayci B, "Would you shut the f-ck up?!?"

The classroom was silent. I felt every eye in that classroom looking at me. What was Mr. Hanson going to do because saying the "f" word in class, as Jeremy H had just done, was unacceptable behavior. I knew that and I like to think Jeremy H knew that as I wrote a hall pass for Jeremy H to go to the principal's office. It turned out that was the last time Jeremy H was in my sophomore-level Language Arts classroom. Because Jeremy H had told Jayci B to "shut the f-ck up!", Jeremy H's fate was sealed. It must have felt like his world had collapsed upon him. In context, Jeremy H was a junior who had failed sophomore Language Arts the previous year. Thus, when he said that word, Jeremy H sealed his fate of being a senior repeating sophomore Language Arts. I wish I could state that was the only noteworthy event during that semester.

But it wasn't. Whenever I think about that story and being in that situation, I am compelled to tell the story of Jack P because it directly relates to that story about Jeremy H. You see, Jack P was in that same sophomore-level Language Arts class. Jack P was a junior who, like Jeremy H, flunked sophomore Language Arts as a sophomore and now was repeating the class in my classroom. It was on a Monday when I had three handouts that the following happened. When I came to his desk with the second handout, he looked at me and said, "If you give me another handout, I'm going to slap you."

Someday, I'd like to review every single college textbook that explains what to do when you, as a student teacher, are verbally threatened by a student. I knew that the next thing I was going to do would result in being slapped by a student. I want to read about why what I did wrong in that situation in fall 1991 because there are some facts:

• I had another handout.
• I put it on Jack P's desk. 
• Jack P slapped my hand.

Did his slap hurt me? Did I say, "F-ck! That hurt!"

No, I didn't curse like my sister-in-law.


In today's day and age, would I have filed assault charges for what Jack P did to me that day? After all, what teacher should be physically assaulted by a student in the classroom?

I've played this scenario over in my head many times since the fall of 1991. I feel like maybe the next time I do, I will be able to change history in the same way I say that I like watching Titanic because I keep hoping that the ship doesn't sink when I watch it next time. I'm being sillly because yes, I know that won't happen - I will be slapped and the ship will sink. Thus, every time I see it in my head, I see myself coming around a third time to his desk and I see Jack's hand come down on mine. Like I had done when Jeremy H told Jayci B to "shut the f-ck up!", I wrote a hall pass for Jack P to go to the principal's office.

However, and this is where I wish the story would change, the same action on my part - sending the student to the office - did not yield the same result. Tom C, my cooperating teacher, did not like Jeremy H, but he liked Jack P. Because Tom C did not like Jeremy H, Jeremy H was removed from my classroom; I never taught him again. However, because Tom C did like Jack P, there was a much less extreme punishment for Jack P. For the rest of the semester, during my class, Tom C worked with Jack P in the teacher workroom next to Tom C's classroom on a daily basis. In context, what Tom C did for Jack P was a respectable gesture. Jack P had a tough life. Though I don't know why, or if I did know, I don't remember the reason now, I do remember Jack P lived with his uncle. I remember that Tom C had worked with Jack P in a program for at-risk students during the summer at a local college. What I also remember is that Tom C screwed with my classroom when he worked with Jack P to get him through the semester.

I didn't realize that until many years later how much what Tom C did during the fall of 1991 has been internalized by me. Scarred by it? I agree.

Why am I writing about events from the fall of 1991?

I blame Eric Gravlin, who was at the Pink Conference in Las Vegas, NV, during the week of February 16 - 20 (last week). Eric Gravlin and I went to the Hard Rock Cafe on the Las Vegas strip for dinner on Wednesday, February 19, 2020. We went to dinner between the end of the last conference session and the start of the Piff the Magic Dragon show. We sat in a booth, just the two of us, talking about our lives and sharing stories. I know it only happened last week, but I believe we were enjoying good food as we also were establishing what I hope is a friendship that lasts my entire life. We told stories about the events in our past that were intended to explain to each other who we are today. When the subject of college came up, I started talking about student teaching in the fall of 1991. I told these stories about Jeremy H and Jack P and Tom C to Eric to better explain how it was that I was not a teacher and, instead, I was at the Pink Conference in Las Vegas, NV. In context, Eric Gravlin is a guy from Boston, who doesn't like Metallica ("BOO!" I write now with a grin on my face), who I had never met until Monday, February 17, 2020. It was random. I saw him sitting at a table, eating breakfast and asked him if I could sit with him in the Grand Ballroom at the conference. Since that Monday morning, Eric and I had attended some of the same sessions and gone out to dinner with my co-workers during the week. And that is how, during our conversation, Eric Gravlin said the words that have been echoing in my brain ever since that conversation a week ago.


What he said was that, paraphrased, Tom C was wrong to have worked with Jack P. It doesn't matter that Tom C is deceased - he was still wrong.

I had never been told that.

Ever.

Not in the 29 years since I finished student teaching had anyone ever told me that Tom C was wrong to have worked with Jack P. It doesn't matter that Tom C is deceased - he was still wrong.

It feels like a shackle has been removed from my heart. 

I tend to to minimize the effects of my past on my present. I don't want to pretend that being slapped by Jack P in the fall of 1991 is bigger than it really is in the long and confusing story about my life. Certainly, there were many events

• that happened prior to that fall semester, such as not reading When the Legends Die prior to the start of student teaching
• that were happening during that fall semester, such as Tom C not supporting me and not allowing Jack P to seal his fate of being a senior repeating sophomore Language Arts in the same way that Tom C had sealed the fate of Jeremy H to be a senior repeating sophomore Language Arts
• that happened after that fall semester, such as being honest with myself about why I wanted to be a teacher and why I had been unsuccessful. In my final evaluation, Tom C offered me the opportunity to repeat student teaching with him, to show him I had the drive and dedication to becoming a great teacher. I never seriously considered taking him up on that offer.

Which brings me back to the present and Buzzfeed.com using the "f" word to entice me to click on their link. Writing this essay will not prevent Buzzfeed.com from using the "f" word to entice me to click on their link in the future. I realize that it is my choice to not click on that link. Unlike being able to control the fates of Jeremy H and Jack P in the fall of 1991, I can control whether buzzfeed.com's use of the "f" word achieves its desired outcome. I vow to control what I can and let go of what I cannot control.