Ten Months As a Teacher - by Dave Jaffe: Part Four.

                  Ten Months as a Teacher.  Part Four by Dave Jaffe


     I faced classes and young faces that were sometimes friendly, sometimes hostile but usually indifferent. The fault might have been mine. "You were a lousy teacher," a partner of one of my students said. "My girlfriend said you were the worst teacher she ever had."
     Although this young man's comments angered me at the time he said them, he was probably right. I was a lousy teacher. I often didn't prepare for many of my five classes, three grade 11's and two grade 10's. I didn't read about the background of the novels, plays and poetry I taught. I often went into classes thinking, what am I going to teach right now? And I took no part in any of the extra cirricular activities that teachers usually headed up. I was supposed to help produce a play but I didn't even start the production. This was a major mistake on my part. For most teachers in the school coached sports teams, started new activities or did other things after school with the students. I did nothing.
      So while I struggled on with my teaching, life in Powell River outside of Max Cameron just went on. There was a whole social world out there that I never got in contact with. Young people paired off into couples and then often got engaged. Singing groups, choirs, churches, political gatherings, and soccer and hockey leagues kept on going. I knew nothing about any of this. Yet it was a whole side of life that I ignored.
    "You should come to school dances," one teacher told me. "If you show up at them, it can make your time in the classes easier." I didn't follow  this advice, yet I should have. Like the true recluse I was, I stayed away from crowds. Every time I could, I sneaked off to Vancouver. I usually arrived in the city at night time, and came back to Powell River on a Sunday. I loved these two to three day breaks and spent hours wandering in Stanley Park, going to movies, and browsing in book stores and the Vancouver Public Library. In the library I did look for things and projects I could do with my classes.
    These weekend jaunts kept me sane as my classes and teaching went downhill. I yearned to move back to Vancouver and soon I did.
      One man who helped shovel me out of teaching and back to Vancouver was the superintendent of the Powell River school system. I went to him in November of 1969 and told him of some of the problems I faced as a teacher. He listened to me with some sympathy. But going to him may have been a mistake as I found out later.