Anomic Aphasic Teacher

It's never been officially diagnosed (and it's not quality of life impinging) but I'm fairly confident that my two sisters, my mother and I all suffer from Anomic Aphasia.  It's not to the degree that we can't find any words and are non-communicative; it's primarily people's names that we find difficult to retrieve.  Over the years I have learned a few coping mechanisms around this deficiency.

My wife, Connie, and I have developed a signal for when I meet someone whose name I can't recall.  If Connie knows them, there's no problem;  she will either introduce me or I can ask her discretely what their name is, or wait until after the fact (and hope it sticks until the next meeting).  If Connie doesn't know them, then we use the following code:  If I say to the person, "Bruce, this is my wife, Connie" then Connie knows that I know his name.  (Fairly obvious, you say?  Well, yes, but here's where it gets sneaky.)  If instead I say, "Have you met my wife?" then that cues Connie that I have no idea what the person's name is and then Connie is prompted to say, "Hi, I'm Connie" and the person replies, "Hi, I'm Bruce".  Problem solved.  The only impediment is if the person does not emulate Connie's proper etiquette and fails to identify themselves.

I also use my smart phone (and before that, my Palm Pilot) to generate lists of people's names based on location.  So, if I was going into a certain store I would peruse the list before I entered, greatly improving the odds that I'd be able to address someone by name.

A few years ago, we went to Kalahari with 4 other couples and their children whom I had fairly recently met.  Not only could I not keep straight who was who, I also couldn't match the spouses or the children.  Before we left I had Connie explain the relationships and give me the names and I recorded it all in my phone.  All weekend I would surreptitiously check to match names to people.

So, teaching hundreds of children every year (with each of them having their own name!) is a challenge for me.  To offset my aphasiac handicap, I have had to develop coping mechanisms.

The most prominent one is using Buddy, Bud, Sweetie, Bonehead, Mr. Trumpet, etc. in place of names.

Sometimes only the first letter of a name will come to mind.  I can't count the number of times that ex-students have approached me and I can tell them what letter their name starts with, but that's all.  I play it as a kind of quirky joke, but the unfortunate truth is it happens all the time. 

I always have class lists in my phone for when someone asks me, "Who's that kid in red over there?" I pull out my phone and scroll through names until the right one pops out. Just last month a fellow teacher, with whom I was on yard duty, after witnessing a student using rough play, turned to me and asked, "The boy in the blue ball cap, what's his...?"  She stopped mid-sentence.  "Why am I asking you?"  She then turned to the other teacher on duty and proceeded to ask her the student's name.  Yup.  My fellow staff members know me well.

My marking sheets have the names, what instrument they play, and also what number that instrument is for every student in the class. 

 This is especially helpful early in grade 7 when I begin testing them.  Because I generally test during individual practise times, the students are usually not sitting where they play in class, so a seating plan is not helpful.  As they are testing, I scan my class sheet looking for all the students who play that instrument.  Usually, if narrowed down by instrument, I can match the name to a face.   When it's just not happening, I wait until the student is done and nonchalantly ask, "What number is your instrument?"  After they respond, I ask them, "Is it playing ok?"  Ta-da!  I really don't care what they answer; I have their name!  Problem solved and no one is the wiser.

When students need a new reed, I allow them to purchase on credit (because reeds can break unexpectantly).  They bring the money the next period and give it to me at the beginning of class while everyone is sterilizing mouthpieces and assembling instruments.  So here's a challenging dilemma for an anomic aphasic:  I must pull the student's name out of nowhere with no instrument clues, no seating plan, and I often can't even get a hint at what instrument they play from the cost of the reed because they rarely have exact change.  I used to grab the class list of reed money owed and quickly scan it for who owed me money and hope the name popped up, but under pressure, my aphasia is always worse.  I finally found a sneaky way that the student doesn't know that I can't retrieve their name.  I take the class list, place it on my desk, and instruct the student to find their name while I "fumble around" finding a pen.  I come up with a pen, ask them to point where their name is, mark it as paid and reply, 

"Thanks, <insert name that I read off of the list, here>".

Hide 'n' Seek

AV Graham was built as an Open Concept school in 1970.  The School Board never embraced the actual teaching methods of Open Concept, it just built schools with no walls.  (What's up with that?)  Anyway, when I arrived at AVG in 1984, walls had been erected between the classrooms but there were no walls separating the classrooms from the hallway.  As you walked down the hall you could look directly into each classroom.  (I guess we had progressed from Open Concept to Open Hallway methodology :-)

My cohort in crime during that era was Neil MacTavish.  I don't know exactly what prompted Neil to think of this, but he came to me shortly after a colleague had left for the day.  (It must have been the dark foreboding classroom he could see from the open hallway.)

"Hey, Rick, let's empty Mike's room."

And so we did.

We enlisted the help of some of the other teachers and spent the next half hour emptying the room of absolutely everything - file cabinets, desks, chairs, books, his desk and chair, everything from all the shelves, paper, chalk, the works - and hid them everywhere throughout the building.  The pièces de résistance was we left Mike's coat on his coat rack, with a metre stick through the sleeves resembling outstretched arms, and topped with his own hat, standing scarecrow-like behind a ribbon of police tape stretching from wall to wall with a sign that read, "Keep out!"

This is the actual room we cleaned out.  It is vacant because of reduced enrolment and not goofy teachers this time.

To say Mike was surprised and upset the next morning, would be an understatement.  He was flabbergasted and ticked!  After a short visit to the principal, and a call home to his wife, he did settle down.  By then the students had entered for the day, and we were all with our classes.

Soon after announcements, groups of Mike's students fanned through the building and entered each classroom unannounced.  They scoured the room for their teacher's belongings and whisked  them away.  In less time than it took to empty it, Mike had his class back together and up and running.

For months afterwards he got random visits from student messengers sent from other teachers bearing more of his belongings that had just resurfaced.  One teacher even found a file folder of his squirreled away in her filing cabinet two years after Mike had transferred to another school.

Now that's a successful hide 'n' seek. 

Magnifying Glass

 His name escapes me, but my memory of him never will.  

Grade 5,  A.V. Graham, circa 1986.  He was a smart, inquisitive, child - some might call him a Poindexter - and he had a relish for science and experimentation.  We had been using magnifying glasses in class for a science something-or-other and he embraced the tool wholeheartedly.

One bright and sunny Spring day I was on yard duty and just happened to catch a glimpse of him streak around the corner of the building, bolt to the door, and enter the school, without permission.  I quickly followed him into the building and caught sight of him darting into our classroom.  

As I swung into the room, I was so ready to bellow, "Just what do you think you're doing?" but I pulled up short.  There, at the emergency exit door across the room in the corner, was my student smacking away with his hands at the construction paper, taped to the window - which was on fire!  Just then the fiery window covering fell to the floor and he stamped it out.

"What the heck is going on?" I asked.  He turned around, surprised to see me there.  

"I accidentally set the paper on fire from outside.  I, uh, wanted to see if a magnifying glass could burn through glass," he stammered.  He added sheepishly, "I guess it can."

After determining that he hadn't burned himself, I proceeded to praise him; not for setting the school on fire, but for not panicking.

"Some other student might have gotten scared and run away into the school yard, but you did the right thing in trying to stop the fire."  This seemed to settle him down a bit.  "But if this ever happens again, and I'm sure it won't, but if it were to happen again, tell a teacher and don't put it out yourself.  Ok?"

"Yes, Mr. Farrer."

"Now get outside.   And let's just leave the magnifying glass inside your desk."

I Get Blamed for Everything

Barb Girard was the girls' Phys Ed teacher.  One gym class, many years ago, she was refereeing a volleyball game.  She blew her whistle, and motioned with her hands outstretched, palms down, that the ball had landed within the court lines and a point was to be awarded to the serving team.  The girl who had allowed it to hit the floor challenged her on her call.  Barb replied, in a professional referee manner, without verbal comment - she simply repeated the hand gesture: "In".  Another challenge by the student was met with yet another visual reaffirmation of her call.  The frustrated girl turned away and blurted out, "It was in, you blind bitch."  The girl was sent to the office and sent home for a day.  

Barb, recognizing the humour in the exchange, couldn't wait to tell us all about it in the staff room.  The next day she found over a dozen eyeglasses in her school mailbox with an accompanying note:  "Barb, these will fix the first part of your problem."

Of course, I was blamed for it.  But I was innocent, I tell you, innocent... well, that time at least. 

Sinking My Teeth into Choir

One lunch recess many years ago, I was in front of my Junior Choir directing them through a song.  The accompaniment was on a cassette tape recorder (I told you it was a while ago) that was on the floor at my feet.  In the middle of the piece, a grade 5 student just to the right of me fell forward.  Had I been one foot further right, she would have fallen into me.  Had I not been looking towards the left part of the choir, I would have seen her.  In either of these scenarios I would have been able to prevent her from falling face-first to the floor.  All I saw was a motion out of the corner of my eye and a collective gasp from the choir.  I looked down and saw one of my own homeroom students, lying face-down on the floor, her limbs twitching.

The first thing I thought of was a seizure.  I quickly bent down to help and heard one of the front row students scream, "What's that!"  I looked to where she was pointing, a few feet from the fallen student and saw a tooth, root and all, on the rug.  The student had fallen face first onto my tape recorder and knocked out her front incisor. 

Just then the bell rang signalling the end of recess.  I pointed at a student and ordered, "Go get the principal!"  As the rest of the choir hustled out, I turned the student over and cradled her and her bleeding mouth until the principal came rushing in.  The student was by then conscious enough for us to walk her to the nurse's room (no nurse, but there was a room).  I had picked up her tooth in a tissue.  I gave it to the principal and told him that it should be put in milk. (Somewhere I had read that milk provides a fairly good electrolyte match for a dislodged tooth.  Gotta love trivia when it's useful.)  I soon heard an all-call for anyone having milk left from their lunch to bring it to the office immediately.

A short while later the principal returned, a cup of milk in his hand, to tell me that they had called the parent, who had called the dentist, and had then called us back.  "The dentist said the tooth needs to be put back in the socket,"

"Ok," I replied, "I'll hold her hand and you go ahead."

"But she's your student, Rick." 

Long pause.

I reached into the cup, fished out the tooth, and making sure it was lined up in the right direction between my thumb and forefinger, I said, "Open up your mouth, honey," and I shoved that tooth as far as I could into the bloody socket.

The next morning she returned to school with the tooth cemented to its neighbour.  "The dentist said it will probably be OK."

And three years later during her Grade 8 Graduation, I noticed it was doing just fine.

The Farmer in the Room

My friend, Peter Steckle, is a local farmer, who I met in1980 when we were both cast in our first show with Windsor Light Opera.  I was doing a food/farming unit in Social Studies and asked Peter to come into my 5/6 class as a guest.

When I was introducing him to the class, there was a bit of sniggering going on.  He was, after all, a friend of their teacher, and the first 'guest' to visit our class.  I reminded them to be respectful and courteous.

The kids loved asking questions and I know Peter enjoyed his time as well.  He was particularly impressed with the quality of the questions the students asked.  When he was finished, I came up to the front to thank him and the tittering started again.  I was perplexed because they had been so good all period.  That is until Peter pulled me aside and whispered, "Rick, your fly is open."

Nonchalantly exiting into the hallway, I returned intact and actually a bit relieved - I had figured there had to be a reason why my class was behaving less than politely.  I had just figured on the wrong reason.

Necessity - The Mother of Invention

Three of the five 4' x 8' x 2' risers that Bob Hadju and I built.

They combined to give me a 20' x 8' additional proscenium stage for my musicals.

 

Flats attached to the back wall of the stage to create wings and ways to cross from left stage to right stage.

Stage entrances and wing space created with hinged 4' x 8' x 3/4" plywood panels.

One of three freestanding spot light poles.  Not the best looking, but they did the job.


























One of three six-foot high mic stands that could stand on the floor (so as not to pick up foot noises) in the front of the proscenium stages for area micing.  Created with scrap black pipe and old cymbal stands.

The flood lights in the ceiling of the stage are controlled by a switch backstage where there is no way to see what is happening on stage.  To solve this, for every show I would connect a wireless on/off switch up on the lights so my lighting team could be out front and control the stage lights.  (After each show I would unwire the sensor - to eliminate the need to explain what is was if it was discovered,)

Home made foam rubber sound insulators so the microphones that would sit on the stage would not pick up sound from the actors' feet.

My "Winter Singers" choir would often have well over 100 junior students.  To cut down on attendance taking time, each student would take their name tag off of the cork board and drop it in a coffee can as they entered the room.  The name tags that were left were absent kids.  Afterwards, there was always a kid who loved to put them back on the nails.

 Blew the horn in my old Traynor PA.  Had a couple of piezos collecting dust - voila.  Ugly but it works.

 An old 10-speed handlebar became a hanger for extension cords.

An old snare stand, a tennis ball and a plastic foot off of a stereo receiver became a trumpet stand (and saved me $20).

 

Glockenspiel mallets cost $30 for a pair and I have 5 glocks!  I got tired of breakage and loss, so I bought a giant bag of tinkertoys on eBay for $9 and I have had an inexhaustible supply of mallets for years.

When I moved into my new music room, I complained about the lighting being insufficient at one end of the room.  They sent someone with a light meter and I was told that the reading was within tolerances.  I said that regardless of what the meter said, the students sitting there had insufficient light to see their music.  In the "summary" that I was sent it was suggested that auxiliary lighting could be used.  So, off to Canadian Tire to get a shop light.  It ain't purdy, but it works and it was on sale.

Shelves for music folders are expensive, however, magazine racks at the dollar store and a few screws...

When the bass players get too loud during warmup (damned Rock and Rollers!) I had to get their attention and tell them to turn down, blah, blah, blah.  So to cure the problem, I ran an extension cord from the power bar on my desk to the back of the room and plugged all the amps into it.  When I need to, I just hit the switch.  Easy-breezy.

Djembi and hand drums are very, very expensive.  In order to give everyone the opportunity to hit something, I called an acquaintance who owned a bottled water company and got a bunch of "leakers".  I cut a hole in the top, the students turn them upside down to play the bottom and... instant conga drums - for free!

Whenever the heat comes on in my room, it would blow right at my mouthpiece sterilization station and the kids would complain.  Rather than ask for a replacement (which would require a work order and 27 years waiting) I just taped up the side that was the culprit.

When moving equipment or chairs or any stuff into the gym, the doors close and bang into the kids and their equipment.  I made wooden wedges to hold the doors open, but they were forever going missing.  A simple length of rope, looped to a nearby door handle solved the problem.

When my students were rehearsing in the hall outside my room, if the bell to change classes went off, it was deafening.  Duct tape to the rescue.

I needed risers for my choirs, so I made six 8 foot x 12" x 12" ones.  They are stored in the garage, look the worse for wear, but have been used innumerable times.

 







 
















 

 A class set of xylophones (technically, they'd be glockenspiels) slowly acrued @ $1 apiece at garage sales.

 Because my room is attached to the gym wing, they could not hook me up to the air conditioning for the rest of the school (our gym is not air conditioned).  My room therefore has its own unit on the roof.  A few years ago it was decided that the Board Office would control all of the heating and cooling in all of the schools.  Which means if the temperature is wacko in a school room, the teacher calls the office, the secretary calls the board office, and an adjustment is made (theoretically at least).  Because my unit is self contained they decided that a locked plastic case would be put over my thermostat.  A flute tuning rod just so happens to be able to fit through a hole in the case.  Funny that.