Carey Dillinger, August, 1994
The Daily Commercial
Are you happy with your chosen profession? If you are, how did you end up that way? Being a teacher had been my goal since eighth grade; however, I wanted to teach American History, not mathematics. Luckily for me I had some top-notch guidance.
Two men must take the responsibility for the mathematics teacher I have become. Herbert Miller was my Algebra 1 and Geometry teacher. A no nonsense individual, clad in a white shirt and necktie, Mr. Miller was a prime example (pun intended) of what a math teacher should be. His explanations came in a slow and careful manner,and he was willing to repeat himself for the less gifted class members (which included me). At the end of my freshman year Mr. Miller coerced and cajoled myself and four or five of my friends, including his son, into taking geometry in summer school. Summer School! Five days a week, six hours a day for six weeks. He claimed we covered more material that summer than most classes covered in a regular school year. Those were my first two doses of college preparatory mathematics the way it should be taught. The best I could do was a B in those courses, but I felt that I had accomplished something. Remember when parents were happy if you made a B?
My eleventh and twelfth grade years I was under the tutelage of one Dan Blackwelder or as we called him "Dan the Man." "To his face," you may ask? Are you nuts? Mr. Blackwelder was the King of Reaction, his facial expressions in response to a weird answer are still a part of my fondest memories of high school. Remember, I had no thought of becoming a math teacher during my junior year, as a matter of fact I was not going to even sign up for a math course my senior year.
It was not very long into the spring of 1970 when Mr. Blackwelder began to ask us what math course we were going to take during the upcoming year. When he came to me I told him I was through with math. "I'll see you after class," he replied irritably. After class I went up to his desk and he got up and put his arm around my shoulders and asked me again what math class I was taking my senior year. Again I told him "none." "I thought I heard you say your were signing up for my Analytic Geometry class." "No sir, I'm through with math," I replied. Just then, his arm slid off of my shoulder and grabbed my left arm and he commenced to twist it. Then he pushed me up against the wall and said, "Boy we're signing up for classes next week and your name will be on the list for Analyt." "But I don't need anymore math." But my protest was weakening. "Son how many times have I told you that at age 17 you don't know what you need. If you refuse to take that math class, you're just cutting off your options in the future."
Let's shorten this story and make our point. He did not physically abuse me, nor was that his intention. His intention was to make me think, and that I did. I signed up for that math class, was inducted into the mathematics honor society, came to parent's night and derived the quadratic formula on the chalkboard while the parents looked on in awe and amazement. The rest is history. Which brings me back to my original point, I thought I wanted to be a history teacher, but I thought wrong!
Because someone literally twisted my arm I became a math teacher. The extra time and interest Mr. Blackwelder showed in me was the impetus I needed to get my complete education and keep all my options for the future open. I loved that man, I think about him nearly every workday.
Now zoom with me to the present. When it comes time for me to operate in my mathematics classroom at Leesburg High School, I might consider something I learned in an education class at college or perhaps something I heard in a workshop, but when it comes down to it I usually just think, "How would Mr. Miller or Mr. Blackwelder do it," then I get to work.
Did you have someone like these men in your life? I hope you did. But even beyond that I hope you can do for some 17 year old what these men did for me. Find yourself an eleventh grader, put them under your wing, do a little creative arm twisting and set them down an educational path with all their options open. This is my vision of the 21st century apprenticeship program: everyone over 40 "adopt" a 17 year old and show that teenager some concern, some direction and some affection, then I believe we will make a difference.
The stable, supportive home life that many of us "fortysomething" had does not exist for a huge number of today's teens, they need our help that much more. Where would I be today without Mr. Miller and Mr. Blackwelder?
Final note: Is there a teacher in your life that meant as much to you as these men meant to me? Please get in contact with them tomorrow, if possible. If you detect a note of urgency here, there is a reason. Two years ago I decided to contact my two mentors only to find them on their deathbeds. I saw Mr. Miller only days before he passed on, but I was too late to see Mr. Blackwelder. One of a teacher's greatest rewards is to hear a success story, and know we had something to do with it.
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