A Memorial to a tough teacher

Right about now you see the joy on the faces of our young people that only the end of a school year can bring. One by one the schools in our area let the kids out to frolic and play for summer vacation. Before you get to the pool, the shore or wherever your summer travels take you I have just one more lesson for the youngest readers who take the time to read One Man’s View. Hopefully there are at least a few of you and thanks at the start for reading my remarks through the pages.

How many of you had an incredibly tough teacher this year? I am sure by a raise of hands around town that many of you are hoisting a few arms and delighted at the fact that said teacher is in the rear view mirror, at least until the next one arrives. Well, I have some news for you. Before heading off into the summer, turn back, find that toughest, most difficult teacher that challenged you and thank him or her one more time. Maybe even get a small gift. It’s the toughest teachers that make us better.

A long time ago a young student was force fed real life lessons from a teacher at Temple University. To call this professor tough is a gross understatement. Fred Farrar taught history of journalism at Temple and just to look at him put the fear of God in you. He wore a bow tie, came to class prepared every day, including through a school teacher’s strike for several weeks and expected each student to arrive at least 15 minutes before him ready to take on the day. He had no excuses for missing class and God forbid you had one. One day he quipped to me as I turned in a paper on the history of Philadelphia. Farrar said to me “DiRenzo, if the history of Philadelphia as you have written in this so called paper actually took place, the USA would be a subject nation of Great Britain”. He further ranted at me, " I have serious doubts as to your not only passing this class but graduating altogether. I suggest you call your parents and tell them they are grossly wasting their money on your sorry soul.”

Ouch. That hurt just a little. What struck me about remembering Professor Farrar is that in today’s day and age of political correctness, Farrar is a throwback. I wonder if Professor Farrar taught in today’s elementary or high school classrooms if he’d be thrown out on his ear from student and teacher complaints. I’ll tell you what if he would be, that would be a sad thing. Not for Professor Farrar but for my classmates and I who underwent what felt like torture for a spring semester back in the late 80’s. Hindsight is always 20/20 vision. Ask me at 20 years old what I thought of Professor Farrar and I would curse at the mere name. I had nothing nice to say about the man. He was a curmudgeon, old (even then), mean and beyond strict. He insisted on being ridiculously particular, forced me to learn and broke me in half to teach me how to write. I don’t know if he’s still with us; I have to call some old contacts down at Temple to see what he’s up to, if I had to venture a guess I am sure they had to pry him out of the classroom with him kicking and screaming the whole way. Professor Fred Farrar retired? I just can’t picture it. He lived to teach, he had a passion to journalism, superlative writing skills and the craft of news writing that was unlike anything I have experienced anywhere in industry since leaving his classroom.

I got up the nerve to re-write my ‘History of Philadelphia’ paper and re-submitted hoping for a better grade. The first turn in merited a delightful D-. Nice, that was a treat taking home to mom and dad. The second submission, after countless hours of sweat, toil and work, what did that get me? C-. I flipped, I cursed and demanded to know why. Farrar threw it right back at me. “DiRenzo, your facts aren’t the issue it’s all in how you lay out your thesis. You have events overlapping each other and although factually correct you confuse the reader. This time you were at least on task with your facts so out of pity I gave you a passing grade.” I try to keep my cool, but I really wanted to go off on this guy. I wanted to take another stab at the paper when he told me save the trouble we’re on to the next assignment. This one was even more daunting. We had to take on the life of someone growing up in the 1950’s and write a paper in a journal format from someone (fictitious) who lived through that special decade. I was determined. I’d teach this son-of-a-gun he’s messing with the wrong guy. I told my parents don’t look for me for a while. I told them I am staying late at Temple’s Paley Library and what I couldn’t finish there I was hitting the city’s main branch for the remainder of my paper. I wasn’t failing, I wasn’t getting a ‘C’, I was going to blow him away and show him that I could write and write well. I have never worked so hard in all my life. I didn’t eat right, I hardly slept and I over obsessed over every inch of that paper before submitting. After I turned it in I still couldn’t rest waiting for the grade. After a few days that felt like weeks Farrar looked over the top of his glasses at me and said “Nice work”. “This paper at least looks like you didn’t write it during halftime at Temple’s football games, this is very good DiRenzo. I’m giving you a B.”

I know what you’re thinking, if it’s that good why didn’t I receive an ‘A?’ Farrar never gave ‘A’s.’ Never. He didn’t believe in them, they didn’t exist. B was his A. This way you always have room to improve. Since then whenever I run into difficult people who give it to me straight, tough and to the point I thank them. As long as you know they are coming from a place of trying to make you better those people do us a great favor. Your tough teachers don’t challenge you, work you and drill you incessantly for their pleasure. These people are making sure you are getting your money’s worth. Farrar is the best kind of teacher. He’s all business. No bull. You get your money’s worth sitting in Professor Farrar’s class. For the teacher’s that beat you to a pulp over the books this year, thank them, they did their job. Once you look at how you’ve improved you’ll realize what they passed onto you. That gift is yours thanks to their seeing to your welfare.

Take comfort in that as you pine away in the summer sun. Professor Farrar, a tough teacher who never gave up on a stubborn kid. Thanks Fred.

See ‘ya around town.