A Teachable Moment (S)

My career in teaching (1991-2018) did not follow what some might call a “normal path.” Firstly, it started at 41 years old. Secondly, it began at a University in Canada and ended at a private school in Southern California. I went from lecturing in three different departments – Communications, Canadian Studies, and Geography – to teaching high school English and creative writing to “gifted” (aren’t they all?) children considered to be on, what is called, “the spectrum.” This refers to kids with high-functioning Autism, Asperger’s Syndrome, ADHD, and other such afflictions, which often come with the second label: “neurodivergent.” For the most part, as with any group of teenagers, these were good kids who would have, for a variety of reasons, struggled at more traditional schools. Many of them benefited and thrived because of the smaller class sizes, more personalized curriculum, and readily available support services. Now, after saying all that, many of these students’ strengths were in one or more of the following three areas: math, science/technology, and the arts/music. I was the English teacher.

Teaching, a.k.a. “professing,” at a public university is light years away from “teaching” at a private school, not to mention that they were in different countries. The curriculum, the level of academic rigor, and everything that encompasses are naturally going to be different, but the other major difference is that in my 15 years at the university, I had never spoken to or communicated with a parent(s) of one of my students, except for that one time that I had a mother and daughter taking one of my classes together. I can tell you that the 12 years I spent at the private school more than made up for that lack of parental contact! To be perfectly honest, my “training” for my first foray into teaching was non-existent, as it began as a “teaching assistant” when I started my Masters and morphed into lecturing and course development shortly after that, but only because I happened to be in the right place at the right time. My “qualifications” for the private school gig were essentially the credentials I had from the first gig, with the exception of a two-week orientation before my first year. Oh, I almost forgot, I was 55 when I started at the private school.

Let’s just say it was an interesting journey, with a very steep learning curve, and it was certainly a challenging 12 years, before I put myself out to pasture in 2018. At the university gig, I can honestly say that I never heard the phrase, “a teachable moment” used by other professors, and it was definitely never directed towards me, but I was aware of the term and what it meant, and its application in other spheres of life. Like the teachable moment you have after waking up having had one too many tequila shots the night before. Then came private school, and the teachable moment floodgates opened. There is, however, a particular one that stands out, but it didn’t come from an “ah-ha” revelation that I had in the classroom; rather, it was suggested to me as a solution by an administrator when I told him about an absolute screw-up of “epic” proportion that I had made. In retrospect, “epic” does not feel strong enough to describe my gaffe. And who was I to argue with the teachable moment solution being handed to me, for what I thought at the time would most likely get me fired faster than _________insert cliché here? Yeah, I know, you want to know what I did that was so terrible.

 A couple of summers before this “fiasco” (not the round-bottomed glass flask for wine, think Chianti), I was reading a book that I thought I might be able to use for my 11^th grade classes. It was Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories (2004) by Chuck Palahniuk. If that name sounds familiar, it is because you may be familiar with some of his novels, especially Fight Club (1996) and Choke (2001), both of which were made into movies, or perhaps Invisible Monsters (1999), Lullaby (2002), and Rant (2007). I had read all of these by that time but was unfamiliar with his non-fiction. I apologize for this gross generalization, but one could say that his novels are “quirky,” which is exactly the same word I would use to describe my students, so it seemed like a good fit. Since most of my students were not really into English literature, I tried to find books and other material outside of what would be considered the standard curriculum for the grade, material that I thought would pique their interest, the “perk” that comes from teaching at a small private school without a standardized curriculum.  And when I did teach a book that was more “standard,” like Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, I not only showed them a movie version of the book, as many of my students were visual learners, but I also tried to find some unique ways to present the material. For example, there was an exercise comparing rap lyrics to lines from Shakespeare’s play. I showed movies for other books as well, like Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity, and the graphic novels Persepolis and Watchmen. In fact, I took my class to the opening midnight showing of the movie Watchmen when I first taught the novel. I know what you’re thinking, but sainthood is not for me.

It was exactly two summers later, and I was figuring out what books I wanted to be on my reading list for my 11^th grade class starting at the end of August, when I remembered Palahniuk’s Stranger Than Fiction and thought to myself, “Yeah, that would be a great fit for these guys.” I did not remember every story in the book, but what I did remember was that the stories were definitely “out there,” and I was sure that they had never read anything quite like this before. This turned out to be quite prophetic. The book was divided into three sections: People Together, Portraits, and Personal, all under the umbrella theme of people getting together. What could go wrong with that? In his forward to the book, Palahniuk writes: “Every story in this book is about being with other people. Me being with people. Or people being together.” Stories like “Where the Meat Comes From,” about wrestling, “Confessions in Stone” about castle building, “Reading Yourself” about Marilyn Manson, and “Demolition,” a story about a demolition derby but instead of cars, it’s farm combines. Like I said, quirky.

The book was ordered, given out to the students when the semester began, and I instructed them to have it read in a couple of weeks. I told them that we would not be looking in-depth at every story, but they should read the whole book, which would give them a better understanding of the overall concept. I knew that most of them would not have it read when we started (this was the norm), but there was one student in this particular class who was an avid reader, and I knew that she would start it and finish it well in advance of the discussion start date. She did not disappoint, walking into my classroom about a week after I handed it out with this sly grin on her face. I had not taken a look at the book yet to finalize which stories I wanted to work on, so when she looked at me and asked: “Do you know what is in this book?” I was, needless to say, I bit alarmed. As it turned out, rightly so. I told her that I had read it some time ago but had not looked at it recently. She smiled, opened the book, and read me the first paragraph of the first story in the book, which just happens to be titled: “Testy Festy.”

A pretty blonde tilts her cowboy hat farther back on her head. This is so she can deep-throat a cowboy without her hat brim hitting him in the gut. This is on a stage, in a crowded bar. Both of them are naked and smeared with chocolate pudding and whipped cream. This they call the “Co-Ed Body Painting Contest.” The stage is red carpet. The lights fluorescent. The crowd chants, “We want head! We want head!”

She was about to read the second paragraph, but I somehow managed to stop her as I grabbed my copy from the shelf, furiously rifling to the first story with a look of abject horror on my face. As I read, the look of horror turned to that oh-shit-I’m-fucked look. She was laughing hysterically. And just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, she told me that she started reading it in the car as her dad was driving her to school, and when she began laughing hysterically after reading the first paragraph, her dad asked her what she was reading, and instead of answering the question, she read him the entire story! I wanted to die. How was I going to break the news to my wife, also a teacher, that I just got fired for assigning a book with a story depicting graphic sex acts on a stage at the annual “Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival,” at a bar 15 miles south of Missoula, Montana? And then I wondered if Starbucks was hiring.

After she left my classroom, I hightailed it it the head of school’s office, because I sure as hell did not want him to hear about this from anyone else, especially the dad. I told him the whole sordid saga. He asked me how graphic it was, to which I responded: “You really don’t want to know,” because if you think that first paragraph was bad…After an uncomfortably long pause, he looked at me and said: “Well, if you frame this the right way with your class, it can be a valuable ‘teachable moment.’”  Indeed.

Los Angeles 2023