Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1983–84 School Year

Harmon Middle School

My next year back was more relaxed—

Oh, no more German! (So relieved.)

And I was certain—and believed—

The Tree of Failure I had axed.

The plays continued—three that year.

Oh, I’d done two the year before—

Including Snoopy (what a score!)—

Oh, happiness was always near.

And with some kids I wrote a play—

We named it Murder on Bus 10.

We mounted it (December) when

The snow was flying every day.

And then old Billy wandered through—

The Kid (I’m sure you heard of him!)

Some cast—oh, I was proud of them—

And then, in May—oh, something new!

The first of all our 8^th grade shows—

The “Farewell Show” we called them all.

Some skits and songs (we had a ball)—

And dancing, too. (The show just grows!)

And soon it is tradition, and

It ends my year with fun and tears.

Oh, it went on—a dozen years!

And at the end the crowd would stand.

I was exhausted by the end—

But feeling wonderful, as well.

I’d found my calling (can you tell?)

I loved it so—cannot pretend.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1982–83 School Year

Harmon Middle School

Yes! I was back at Harmon, and

I would not leave again …

Well, not till I retired, that is.

(Retirement’s not a sin.)

I knew most of the teachers, but

It still felt kind of weird:

The kids were new (to me, of course),

And so I found I feared

(A little) how my days would go.

But things grew smooth (I sighed).

And I felt back at home again—

And it was quite a ride.

And German? Yes, I taught it then—

Both German I and II.

And I was barely competent—

Was glad when it was through.

And eighth-grade English—grew to love

That level and the kids—

Though 13-year-olds (as you may know)

Can be like slippery squids—

And mad as hatters (Alice knows)—

Of that there’s no debate.

But, otherwise, I loved those kids—

Had cause to celebrate!

I did a show, my first year back—

A show about E.T.

The classes, stage—that Harmon School!

Oh, all seemed heavenly!

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1981-82 School Year

 Kent State University; Learned Owl Bookshop

This year I learned the subtle joys

Of doing full-time part-time work.

I realized I’d been a jerk—

Just quitting?—oh, a lack of poise.

And so I had a couple jobs:

I taught some frosh at KSU—

And worked some in a bookstore, too.

(That sound you hear? Self-serving sobs!)

But somehow we survived—scraped by

On what we managed to bring in—

Oh, nothing like it once had been!

But hopes remained—though not so high.

But then—a break!—back in the flow!

A teaching job! A job for me!

I signed the contract (gratefully)—

Back to Aurora I would go!*

*The vote of the school board for me to return was 3–2. Hmmm …

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1980-81 School Year: 

Western Reserve Academy

Our second year there at Reserve—

And we decided on a plan:

We’d split one job—and thus preserve

Some writing time for Joyce and Dan.

In many ways the year was great—

Was great for Joyce, was great for me.

Though of one thing—oh, no debate:

We veered so near to poverty.

And then a crisis in my life—

And who can know the cause of it?

A clash at work—I told my wife

That I had quit—a salary snit.

And I was sure that I would find

Another job—and quickly so.

But soon I nearly lost my mind:

Employers answered: “No!” and “No!”

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

School Year 1979-80
(Western Reserve Academy)

We’re back! We’re in the Buckeye State!

I have to tell you—feels so great.

And we are prep school teachers now—

And we’ll survive (oh, please! somehow!).

It is a very busy year—

I teach some frosh—and let’s be clear:

I love it all. I also teach

Some juniors (Hamlet!—in my reach!).

Our son is in the second grade—

We’re proud of all the steps he’s made.

But as this year is winding down—

A thought appears (today, I frown),

A thought that will have great effect—

I wish I were more circumspect!

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1978-79 School Year

We moved to Illinois that year—

Lake Forest College, where we’d teach,

But I would realize (oh dear!)

I’d made a kind of overreach.

Oh, I could do it—be a prof.

But I missed middle school—a lot.

I really did (so please don’t scoff).

So I resigned without a thought

Of having somewhere else to go.

I’d get a job! What could go wrong?

And so I did—though not much dough—

A private school … would I belong?

Western Reserve Academy—

Back in Ohio once again.

It wasn’t where I wished to be—

That was Aurora, where I’d been.

But I enjoyed my classroom time—

The coaching (tennis!), teaching, too.

Oh, I was sure! And in my prime!

But, boy, was there a lot to do!

I’d started writing essays then—

And placing them, well, here and there.

It was a way I could begin

To make a mark—and not in air.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1977-78 School Year

A year that saw some things transformed—

Both Joyce and I now Ph.D.’s—

We’d hardly done it in a breeze.

And then that spring—it really stormed:

My teachers’ union went on strike—

And I was there with picket sign—

Arrested on the picket line!—

There wasn’t all that much to like.

And then my grandma Osborn died—

Missouri—where I quickly flew

And did the things I had to do—

And at her service broke and cried.

I took another job that spring—

Lake Forest College—we would move

North of Chicago—could I prove

Myself up there? But here’s the thing:

I found so quickly—this was wrong.

I much preferred the middle school.

So feeling somewhat like a fool,

We moved right back—we weren’t gone long.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1976-77 School Year

I did not know it at the time—

But soon enough I’d know:

Directing Charlie Brown that year?

It was the final show

That I would do at Harmon School—

For quite a little while.

But what a cast we had that year!

They did the show with style.

Both Joyce and I were on the edge

Of earning Ph.D.’s.

And all that work and stress, I know,

Had brought me to my knees.

And kindergarten lay ahead

For our young son, our Steve,

And soon (the stars were lining up)

Our family would leave.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1975-76 School Year

In 1976—the spring—

In April—quite a complex thing:

We mounted a production then

About those days—yes, way back when.

The 1940s—gumshoe tale—

Like Raymond Chandler (couldn’t fail!).

The Periwinkle Perplex—yes,

That was the name … oh could you guess

What this our show was all about?

(But don’t forget: Three strikes you’re out!)

We had a lot of fun with that—

With 40’s music—never flat!

And so another year rolled by—

It all seemed endless, my oh my.

And I turned thirty-one that fall—

Was feeling old. (Oh, Time, please stall!)

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1974-75 School Year

So the years rolled along, full of work, full of play,

And I candidly say that I loved every day—

Had a wife whom I loved—and a son who was great.

I was blessed—and I knew it: There is no debate.

On that road we call “Grad School” I started to see

Just a little bit farther—oh yes! Ph.D.!

But it took so much time—what with family and work—

I was swarmed with so much I was sometimes a jerk.

For we tend, when we’re busy, to think all we do

Is for me and for me and for me (sometimes you).

So I don’t always think of these years with much pride—

All I know is I felt at the time that I tried.

In my classes I felt much more confidence flow—

For the more that I read, well, the more I could know.

And my time with my wife—and my time with my son—

Oh, that time was pure gold: Oh, please never be done!

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1973-74 School Year

Our son was growing! What a boy!

And sleeping well throughout the night.

And eating Gerber’s (naught to bite!).

He brought to us continual joy.

And Joyce and I were writing hard—

Oh yes! It’s Dissertation Time!

And now I must confess that I’m

By all of that still somewhat scarred.

But Steve was such a happy child—

We took him everywhere with us,

And he would hardly ever fuss—

He sat at plays, transfixed and mild.

For teaching? This, my seventh year,

Remained much work—and so much fun.

And by the time each day was done,

I knew I’d picked the right career.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1972-73 School Year

July 16. Our son was born.

We had to find a different place.

“No children” (sigh), so we were shorn

Of home—not really much disgrace.

Our landlord helped us with our search—

And we moved just around the block,*

So we were not left in the lurch:

Our lives ticked on—tick-tock, tick-tock.

In grad school I took “Incomplete”—

A baby—Steve—changed everything.

Demands of school just can’t compete

With needy infants—all they bring.

But soon we got into the flow

And figured out our many tasks.

But Joyce, oh, she’s the one to know

The silent things a baby asks.**

Or … not so silent (parents learn)—

The cries that come in day, in night.

And everything you know you earn

And years required to get it right.

*from 323 College Court to 214 S. Willow in Kent—razed during the esplanade project

**I returned to Aurora and full-time teaching in September; Steve was only about six weeks old.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1971–72 School Year

This year began—yes, Number Five—

In my short class career.

I felt a lot more confident—

With far much less to fear.

Don’t get me wrong—I made mistakes—

I made them every class.

I still went home most every night

And sighed: “You stupid ass!

“Why did you say that? Why that move?

You made some kids feel bad.

They are, you surely recognize,

The best allies you’ve had!”

But I was having lots of fun—

The clubs, the classes, plays.

And my wee life was now so full—

So full in many ways.

In 1971—the fall—

We got the welcome news:
We would be parents in July!

Oh, such news cures the blues!

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1970-71 Academic Year

Well, I turned twenty-six this year—

Oh, I was really wise (I thought)—

Just look at all I’ve learned and taught!

Oh surely I can have no peer!

About that? I was really right.

I had, instead, superiors

In every way: exteriors,

Interiors. I wasn’t bright—

Well, not so bright as I believed.

Oh youth! I guess I’ll blame you now—

For you’re the one (some way, somehow)

That made me so, well, self-deceived.

But still I loved my life at school—

My life in classes that I took—

I wrote each paper, read each book,

And knew—yes, knew—I'd be no fool!

This was year five of my career—

I sponsored clubs, directed plays,

And found so many different ways

That I suppressed my primal fear

Of failure.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1969-70 School Year

“The married man!”—that is a line

From Shakespeare’s Much Ado.*

And I was feeling so amazed:

My dull old life was through!

And both of us were back in school—

Though I was just part-time

(Through nights and summers)—on we went—

An ever-upward climb.

I still was loving middle school—

That would not go away.

In fact, I love it as I sit

Right here, right now, today!

We had a tiny place in Kent**

But close to campus sites—

We walked to evening classes—then

Returned in darkest nights.

It was, in ways, a magic time—

Yes, all of it a thrill.

And I confess to all of you:

It has that magic … still.

*Said of the confirmed bachelor (and now a groom), Benedick, near the very end by Don Pedro: “How dost thou, Benedick the married man?” (5.4).

**323 College Court; Kent, Ohio (still standing!)

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1968–69 School Year

The year that I turned twenty-four,

A year that would transform my life.

For in that summer hopes would soar—

I’d meet the one who’d be my wife.

Yes, summer school at KSU—

Continuing my master’s work—

I met a special classmate who

Soon made my heart go, well, berserk.

Her name was Joyce; she was so bright,

So sweet, and (okay) beautiful

That I knew I was purely right

To fall for her (so dutiful

Was I—to listen to my heart,

To take a chance again on love,

To play that well known courtship part,

A part I knew so little of).

The class on Emerson, Thoreau

Flew by that Summer of the Heart,

That summer I would learn—no, know—

That I could never be apart

From Joyce

Again.

Years of My Life

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1967–68 School Year

In June this year*—a school play,

The first one that I did direct.

I wrote it with some kids—the way

I’d learn to love (as you suspect).

My second year of teaching was

A little better than the first—

Which wasn’t all that hard because

My first year was among the worst.

Oh, not because of students—no!

I learned to love them very fast.

But I found out I didn’t know

So very much … I was aghast.

And I was still alone that year—

The year that I’d turn twenty-three.

I started to endure the fear

That there was no one “right” for me.

I missed my parents—brothers, too.

I lived alone—and funds were low.

But I had many things to do—

Like watching piles of homework grow!

I lived in Twinsburg for a while—

And then to Stow for not too long.

And finally … Aurora (smile!),

I thought I’d fit—I wasn’t  wrong.

*June 1967, at the end of my first year.

Years of My Life, 1965-66 School Year

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1966–67 School Year

I got a job! A middle school!

(A teacher told me, “Just a fool

Would teach there.”) Well, it seems that I

As “fool” would surely qualify.

Aurora Middle School—the place

Where I would try to make the case

That this profession was for me—

That I belonged, well, certainly.

Those seventh graders I first taught

When I was turning twenty-two (and not

The most experienced they’d meet

In classrooms) were, well, mostly sweet—

And so it wasn’t very long

When I was loving it—though wrong

Things I would often do and say—

This happened often … every day?

But I was grateful for the chance

To learn these steps in this new dance.

Some students whom I taught this way

Are Facebook friends right now—today!*

*Thank goodness for their poor memories!

Years of My Life, 1965

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1965

And so my senior year—at last!

(So much had gone so very fast.)

My major—English—now complete.

(Not really such an easy feat.)

And student teaching lay head—

And I’ll confess I felt some dread.

Could I survive it? And succeed?

Yes, I was frightened, I concede.

To West Geauga High School in

The winter term I went. I’d been

Afraid, right from the very start.

But those young kids? Straight to my heart.

I loved those classes—tried my best—

And passed this rough initial test.

But now arrived another fear:

What would I find to do next year?

In this my parents had a stake:
They’d taken teaching jobs at Drake.*

The house where I had grown was sold.

Would I be out there in the cold?

I got accepted—Kansas, Yo.

But realized I could not go:

No scholarship, financial aid—

So here is where I sighed. And stayed.

Two interviews—that's all I had.**
And things were looking pretty bad ...

*Drake University; Des Moines, Iowa
**Garrettsville and Aurora—both nearby. 

Years of My Life, 1964

A Journey from 1944 to … Now

1964

At Hiram College. Junior year.

An English major now.

I’d found the place where I should be—

I knew it well—somehow.

I loaded up with classes—each

Required a lot of books.

And no more did I given them just

Swift superficial looks.

And I was writing papers like

A madman (never gripe!),

And I was grateful (high school class!)

That I had learned to type.

I still was not at all so sure

About what happened next—

To teaching? Or to grad school? Which

To do? Oh, I was vexed!

But I then figured (wrong again!)

That I had lots of time.

No use in planning—oh, not yet!

The time is not yet prime!

And so I reeled through junior year—

Both happy and deceived.

I thought I knew so very much—

Not knew but just believed.