John Greenman's First Day of School

John Greenman was driving to school. This was a new thing, since before today he had driven downtown, not to the suburbs. He had done that because before, he was a lawyer, not a school teacher.

He was a pretty-big-deal lawyer, too, at a pretty-big-deal law firm. It was too bad he didn't care one bit about tax law, and even worse that he spent a decade of his life working in a field he didn't care one bit about.

But now he was a teacher. Or was going to be a teacher? He still wasn't sure when he officially became one. He had gotten the job in a pretty informal manner. He simply called the school and asked if they needed a history teacher. When they found out the firm he worked for they hardly asked any more questions. "Congratulations, John Greenman, you're the new 8th grade world history teacher!" the vice principal had said with a suspicious amount of enthusiasm.

John took it as a sign of the terrible state of distress the U.S. educational system was in. Good thing he was there to help!

The thought that something he was doing was benefitting the world made him feel better. His rampant existentialism brought on by his divorce has made him question a lot of things, most of all what the hell he was doing with 10 hours of each day of his life. Thinking that his actions would improve the world, instead of making it actually slightly worse, put this existentialism at ease. Well, at least a little.

He drive into the school's campus and parked in the enormous parking lot. He took a spot far away from the front entrance even though almost all the spots were open, just because he knew due to his timid kindness he'd feel guilty taking one of the best spots.

When he got to his assigned classroom and settled into his uncomfortable new chair, he realized just how early he was. In his newfound boredom with life he'd been so excited for something new that he'd gotten to class an hour early.

"No matter, it'll provide a good example for my students to be early to things," he thought. But he had trouble telling himself he was setting a good example when 58 minutes later, there was still no one in his classroom. At least one kid should have gotten there a bit early, right?

He'd already starting questioning his decision to come teach a bunch of kids who hardly seemed like they desired to learn when the first student finally walked in. Even though John had been waiting, he was surprised and hurriedly took his legs down the top of his desk. He also sat up, thinking he probably shouldn’t take such a laid-back posture in front of his impressionable students.

But it didn’t matter because Carter, the skinny, nervous-looking, blonde-haired kid with glasses that walked in, didn’t look his way at all. He simply bee-lined to the back of the classroom, sat at his desk with a book, and started reading.

John looked at him curiously. He thought about introducing himself, but felt guilty at the idea of interrupting the boy, who appeared incredibly focused on his book.

Right before he decided that no, it was ridiculous not to introduce yourself as a new teacher to the only student sitting in your classroom, a group of boys walked in.

This time John didn't hesitate, introducing himself with a wave. "Hello," he said kindly. "I'm your new history teacher, John--I mean, Mr. Greenman." 

The short but strong boy walking in front made firm eye contact with him, nodded, and just said "Anthony". The boys continued on, taking seats in the front of the class.

Other students rushed in, and then the bell rang. Suddenly John realized just how unprepared he was. He had made a PowerPoint-style presentation far ahead of time, but had completely forgotten about all the time it would take to connect his computer to the projector, and introduce himself, and should he do some kind of ice breaker where all the students get to know each other, like they sometimes did in office meetings? No, these kids have been in school with each other for over a year now, right?

As he messed with the projector and thought about all these things, a girl came in who he didn’t notice.

Jane, a girl with dark hair and pale skin, seated herself calmly at a seat along the windows. She, too, had glasses, and was carrying a thick book that must've weighed more than her head.

John, much to his dismay, spent about 10 more minutes fuddling with the projector and his computer. At one point he thought maybe he could just have the class pass around his laptop to each look at his slides one-by-one, but slowly just accepted the impossibility of showing his presentation.

Now, John was a man that certainly liked to be prepared for things. On vacations he always brought a bag more than he needed. And though he inevitably forgot a couple important things, he insisted on preparing well ahead of time and bringing anything that he might need.

However, what he didn't realize about himself, was that he's at his best under pressure, without any preparations at all. So he didn't know that it was actually a blessing in disguise that he wasn't able to show his terribly boring, and honestly slightly embarrassing presentation (with badly lit photos of himself) on the first day of class.

At this moment, though, he was faced with rows of expecting eyes (with some pairs of eyes turned downwards looking at their phones), and had nothing to say.

In such situations where we can only think of one thing to do, we do that one thing. And this is what John did. He turned off the projector, walked to the chalkboard (pushing the whiteboard in front of it out of the way), and took out a piece of chalk that looked like it hadn't been touched in decades. The chalk still worked, though, and he wrote his name across the entirety of the chalkboard, as he had seen professors do in movies: "MR. GREENMAN".

"Hello, everyone. I'm your new world history teacher," he said. 

Some kids gave a couple short "hellos" while others stayed completely quiet. "Wow", he thought. "So this is how my teachers felt trying to get us to participate in class."

But once he began to think of it as one of his bullshit work Zoom meetings, where he knew not to take things too seriously, he started to have more fun.

"What brings you kids to my classroom?" he asked.

No one spoke.

"I'll give you an 'A' if you answer me," he joked.

Still no one spoke, except for a couple kids that put their fists above their heads.

"Oh, that's right, you're taught not to speak unless you put your hand above your head and the teacher gives you permission to talk. I forgot about that strange part of my school days. Ok, you first," he said, pointing at a nice-looking young girl near the front.

She was not so nice. "I'm here because my parents made me," she complained.

Forgetting the professional stature he was supposed to take, he said casually: "I'm sorry, that sucks." Then, catching himself, "I mean, ok, next,", and he pointed at Anthony, who had his hand in the air.

"I'm here to learn about the past major figures and events of Earth," he answered.

"Ok, very exact, I like it," John responded. "And what is history?" he asked, looking around.

Again no one raised their hands. 

"I'm not looking for a right answer," John said honestly. "I'm just curious what you think."

Hands went up in the air.

"Ok, none of this hand-above-your head stuff in my classroom. It's weirding me out. If you have something to say, just say it."

The kids dropped their hands.

"History is learning about past figures and events," Anthony said loudly.

"Ok, you just said that, let's try and share new thoughts."

The room was quiet for while, besides the pit-pat sounds made by distracted students fiddling with pieces of paper or scratching something against their desk. They were used to Anthony giving a right answer and the teacher moving on. But here Mr. Greenman sat, waiting for an answer that was not what Anthony had just said.

Anthony, meanwhile, was embarrassed and confused, which were very unusual and unpleasant feelings for him in a classroom. He, too, was used to himself being the commander of a class of students, as he was not only smart, but assertive, too. And when the answer that he gave the teacher didn't seem to completely satisfy him, he didn't know what to do.

After a pause that was much longer and more uncomfortable than the students were used to, Jamie, a famously edgy kid, said "History is some bullshit that teachers tell us to fill the time while they're paid on the hour."

The class suddenly grew very attentive and completely silent, waiting in fear for John to yell at him. Even the students scratching things against their desks stopped and looked up.

"Personally, I'm paid a salary, not by the hour," John said. "And while I think much of it's quite helpful, I agree some of it's definitely bullshit, and that too many teachers are motivated by a salary instead of the joy of teaching."

The students were stunned. Jamie apparently did not just not get in trouble for his provoking answer, but was actually met with an honest and agreeable reply.

And after Jamie broke the ice. the class opened up like a lid popping off its jar. Suddenly, a class full of apathetic and borderline depressed children was turned into a loud room of children jumping out of our their seats like popcorn.

"History is about boring old people," said one student.

"History is about made-up facts created by people that happened to be lucky enough to win wars," said another.

"If you don't speak one at a time, no one will be able to hear each other," John advised them. "And seriously, please stop raising your hands."

"His-story is the Untied States' past of oppressing women and minority groups," said another.

"Amen, sister," John said.

And, as they all started to give their honest thoughts and unique answers, something strange happened: Carter spoke.

 "History is the stories that make us who we are, as a society," he said from his seat at the back of the classroom.

Silence ensued. Not only was the answer incredibly insightful, but some of the students were surprised to hear sounds come from a boy who they genuinely thought couldn't speak. Still more were learning for the first time that there was a skinny blonde-haired boy with glasses that sat at the back of their history class.

John looked at him and smiled. "Ah, approaching things from a more cultural perspective, I see. I might not do the same myself, but I respect it."

Things went on like this for a while. And Anthony, who was quite frustrated with the unorthodox class, had been raising his hand for a while. But at this point John was just ignoring raised hands, so after a few minutes he grew impatient and blurted out, "Aren't you going to teach us what's going to be on the test?"

The class grew quiet again, worried that things had taken a shift.

"Next week," John said simply.

And the class continued with the same energy and participation from its students for its duration, and things were suddenly coming along nicely on John's first day. He felt joy he hadn't felt since he was a kid, since before he began law school and working as a lawyer. And he felt he was able to do the thing he had most feared he would struggle with as a teacher: connecting with the students.

He was able to do this because the respect he gave each student as a full-minded individual inspired them to speak their minds and think freely. They each felt like they could be themselves, in a world that hardly encouraged them to do so, and they naturally understood this and were excited at the opportunity.

At the end of this class, the students started filing out, speaking to each other with laughs and smiles. "All made-up? Really?" one boy questioned his friend.

Jane, the dark-haired girl who sat by the windows, came up to him and told him, "I'm new here. My family moved recently, and… well, things have felt weird at home. But this past hour, things felt OK again," and she gave a weak smile and walked out.

His heart leapt. He was feeling more now that his life wasn't so boring, and that what he was doing with it actually mattered, a lot.