November 6: Old Thurmer, Observation, Prep

"Even the couple of nice teachers on the faculty, they were phonies, too," I said.  "There was this one old guy, Mr. Spencer.  His wife was always giving you hot chocolate and all that stuff, and there were really pretty nice.  But you should've seen him when the headmaster, old Thurmer, came in the history class and sat down in the back of the room.  He was always coming in and sitting down in the back of the room for about a half an hour.  He was supposed to be incognito or something.  After a while, he'd be sitting back there and then he'd start interrupting what old Spencer was saying to crack a lot of corny jokes.  Old Spencer'd practically kill himself chuckling and smiling and all, like Old Thurmer was a goddam prince or something."

Yes, Mr. Spencer, Holden's history teacher, has to be observed by Old Thurmer, Pencey Prep's headmaster.  Spencer has to pretend he's not nervous or annoyed.  Thurmer is his boss.  He could stand up in front of the classroom and attempt to fart Handel's Messiah, and Spencer would have to give him a standing ovation.

I'm going to be observed tomorrow in my classroom.  By a professor to whom I've never met or spoken with.  The extent or our communication has been a couple of e-mails.  He told me not to be nervous, that it really wasn't a big deal.  Funny thing is, it feels like a big deal to me.

That's my worry this Wednesday.  Someone is coming into my classroom to assess my teaching.  I've done as much as I can to prep for tomorrow afternoon.  I've got two lesson plans.  I've got backups to those two lesson plans.  I've got backups to the backups.  My whole goal is to not look like an idiot.  That's it.  I don't expect to be Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society.  I don't expect to be anything but . . .  mediocre to competent.

Saint Marty can live with mediocre.  He'd be thrilled with competent.

Hopefully, I'll be at my mediocre best tomorrow

June 12: Old Thurmer, Headmaster, Superior Worries

"Even the couple of nice teachers on the faculty, they were phonies, too," I said.  "There was this one old guy, Mr. Spencer.  His wife was always giving you hot chocolate and all that stuff, and they were really pretty nice.  But you should've seen him when the headmaster, old Thurmer, came in the history class and sat down in the back of the room.  He was always coming in and sitting down in the back of the room for about a half an hour.  He was supposed to be incognito or something.  After a while, he'd be sitting back there and he's start interrupting what old Spencer was saying to crack a lot of corny jokes.  Old Spencer'd practically kill himself chuckling and smiling and all, like as if Thurmer was a goddam prince or something."

If you haven't noticed by now, Holden has a big problem with authority figures, especially authority figures who seem to take advantage of their positions.  Thurmer is a prime example.  The Pencey headmaster, in Holden's eyes at least, abuses his power.  Mr. Spencer puts up with Thurmer's presence in his classroom simply because Thurmer has the ability to fire him.  Thurmer isn't a "goddam prince."  Thurmer is an institutional bully.

I've dealt with a lot of people like Thurmer in my life.  I used to work at a book store where the management made "surprise" inspections, throwing everyone into overdrive.  As a university instructor, I'm observed, monitored, and inspected by an array of people, from administrators all the way down to students.  The medical office in which I work is a department of a much larger health care system that was recently acquired by an even larger health care system.  Since the take-over, people and jobs have been disappearing at an alarming rate.  Everyone is terrified of losing their positions.

Holden has the luxury of being able to call phonies out.  Thurmer gets called out.  Mr. Spencer gets called out.  Even Holden's brother, D. B., gets called out.  They all have sold their souls, so to speak.  Rather than maintaining their integrity, as Holden sees it, they compromise their values in order to hold on to their jobs or make more money.

Holden would probably lump me in with Thurmer (or Spencer), as well.  I need all my jobs, and, therefore, I sell out.  I laugh when managers make jokes that aren't that funny.  I worry when I hear rumors of who's been "escorted" off the hospital grounds and wait nervously for my turn to take that long walk.  It's a terrible way to work.

I've always felt much more secure at my university job.  I know I'm good at what I do, and I don't get intimidated by the academic setting.  I know that nobody is indispensable.  I learned that when, in a fit of righteous indignation, I walked away from a busboy job at a local Elk's Club.  I thought they would call me up and apologize for what an asshole the manager had been.  Instead, I received my last check in the mail a week later.

I think supervisors and managers and bosses and superiors are supposed to make their employees worry.  It's one of their job requirements.  The line of thought is fairly straightforward.  If I'm not worried, I'm too comfortable.  If I'm too comfortable, I get sloppy.  If I get sloppy, students or patients suffer.  If students or patients suffer, I lose my jobs eventually.  Thus, worry helps me hold on to my low-paying, part-time positions.

Saint Marty worries.  Therefore, Saint Marty is employed.

Been there, done this...