Maybe it was the day before. I'm not certain.
As far back as I can remember, school came easily to me. My early schooling is likely the only aspect of my life that I can make such a claim about myself. Nothing special on my part, but the structure of the institution just seemed to fit me. Not to say that I always enjoyed it, because I didn't. Insofar as we all 'enjoy' activities that provide us with positive reinforcement, I guess it was an enjoyable exercise. But I was bored by it, and generally failed to envision much of a point to it all. Mostly, I went through the motions. Something changed in the autumn of 1985. But, this post isn't about me.
Elementary school and junior high went smoothly in the Indianapolis Public Schools system. Approaching high school, I think my 14 year old self subconsciously sought a challenge. My mind was set on a switching to a private, college preparatory school. So, I earned a scholarship and made the jump. I found no challenge. I hated it. This post isn't about me.
My 'success' continued, but my restlessness increased. After an emotional struggle, I convinced my parents to allow me to return to IPS and enroll at Broad Ripple High School in the Humanities magnet. For my sophomore year, not much changed except I was once again around my longtime friends. Geometry became the first mathematical discipline with which I wrestled a bit, I guess. The core Humanities class for sophomores, Critical Thinking, was a course in logic. For young minds, it was exceptional training. But it came naturally to me for some reason. To this point, my education was little more than rote memorization and regurgitation. This post isn't about me.
As a junior Humanities student, I walked headlong into '19th And 20th Century America.' Because I was a bullheaded jackass, I missed the core freshman Humanities course 'Man And Society' taught by Melinda Fairburn and Ralph Bedwell. I regret that to this day. '19th and 20th,' as it was colloquially known, was team-taught by Doris Young and Ralph Bedwell. It was a revelation.
I know it seems hard to believe at this point, but this post really isn't about me. Mrs. Young and Mr. Bedwell had developed an interdisciplinary approach to teaching 16 & 17 year old kids about the history, literature, and art that formed the United States. Truly, looking back, it was an amazing experience.
Off the top of my head: The Federalist Papers. 1776. Eugene O'Neill. Sinclair Lewis. All Quiet On The Western Front. Al Smith v. Herbert Hoover. H.L. Mencken. The Grapes Of Wrath. Elie Wiesel.
For the first time I could recall, a teacher asked me, "What do you think?" More amazingly, the follow-up came, "Why do you think that?" Finally, I understood the purpose of school. My eyes were opened. Intellectually, I felt challenged.
Of course, I did not always rise to that challenge. After all, I was a red-blooded American teenager in the 80's. But it is safe to say that Mrs. Young and Mr. Bedwell are wholly responsible for awakening my intellectual curiosity. I highly doubt I am alone in this. And the impact of such an influence is, in my view, immeasurable.
When I was insightful, or correct, Ralph and Doris encouraged me to dig deeper. What else lay beyond the simple truth? When I was wrong they gently helped me see the error of my ways through analysis. When I was lazy, or derelict, I was called on it. In this, Ralph was without peer. To me, that is the essence of teaching. And I lost a teacher today... We all lost a teacher today.
This post was never about me. In my mind, to convey the magnitude of effect these educators had upon their pupils, I needed to relate my own experiences. I doubt Doris Young, who suffered a terrible loss of her own recently, will ever read this. I know, now, that Ralph Bedwell will never read this. This post was always about them. And any student whose minds they helped shape. Deepest empathies, Doris Young. Rest peacefully, Ralph Bedwell.
timothy_dee
As far back as I can remember, school came easily to me. My early schooling is likely the only aspect of my life that I can make such a claim about myself. Nothing special on my part, but the structure of the institution just seemed to fit me. Not to say that I always enjoyed it, because I didn't. Insofar as we all 'enjoy' activities that provide us with positive reinforcement, I guess it was an enjoyable exercise. But I was bored by it, and generally failed to envision much of a point to it all. Mostly, I went through the motions. Something changed in the autumn of 1985. But, this post isn't about me.
Elementary school and junior high went smoothly in the Indianapolis Public Schools system. Approaching high school, I think my 14 year old self subconsciously sought a challenge. My mind was set on a switching to a private, college preparatory school. So, I earned a scholarship and made the jump. I found no challenge. I hated it. This post isn't about me.
My 'success' continued, but my restlessness increased. After an emotional struggle, I convinced my parents to allow me to return to IPS and enroll at Broad Ripple High School in the Humanities magnet. For my sophomore year, not much changed except I was once again around my longtime friends. Geometry became the first mathematical discipline with which I wrestled a bit, I guess. The core Humanities class for sophomores, Critical Thinking, was a course in logic. For young minds, it was exceptional training. But it came naturally to me for some reason. To this point, my education was little more than rote memorization and regurgitation. This post isn't about me.
As a junior Humanities student, I walked headlong into '19th And 20th Century America.' Because I was a bullheaded jackass, I missed the core freshman Humanities course 'Man And Society' taught by Melinda Fairburn and Ralph Bedwell. I regret that to this day. '19th and 20th,' as it was colloquially known, was team-taught by Doris Young and Ralph Bedwell. It was a revelation.
I know it seems hard to believe at this point, but this post really isn't about me. Mrs. Young and Mr. Bedwell had developed an interdisciplinary approach to teaching 16 & 17 year old kids about the history, literature, and art that formed the United States. Truly, looking back, it was an amazing experience.
Off the top of my head: The Federalist Papers. 1776. Eugene O'Neill. Sinclair Lewis. All Quiet On The Western Front. Al Smith v. Herbert Hoover. H.L. Mencken. The Grapes Of Wrath. Elie Wiesel.
For the first time I could recall, a teacher asked me, "What do you think?" More amazingly, the follow-up came, "Why do you think that?" Finally, I understood the purpose of school. My eyes were opened. Intellectually, I felt challenged.
Of course, I did not always rise to that challenge. After all, I was a red-blooded American teenager in the 80's. But it is safe to say that Mrs. Young and Mr. Bedwell are wholly responsible for awakening my intellectual curiosity. I highly doubt I am alone in this. And the impact of such an influence is, in my view, immeasurable.
When I was insightful, or correct, Ralph and Doris encouraged me to dig deeper. What else lay beyond the simple truth? When I was wrong they gently helped me see the error of my ways through analysis. When I was lazy, or derelict, I was called on it. In this, Ralph was without peer. To me, that is the essence of teaching. And I lost a teacher today... We all lost a teacher today.
This post was never about me. In my mind, to convey the magnitude of effect these educators had upon their pupils, I needed to relate my own experiences. I doubt Doris Young, who suffered a terrible loss of her own recently, will ever read this. I know, now, that Ralph Bedwell will never read this. This post was always about them. And any student whose minds they helped shape. Deepest empathies, Doris Young. Rest peacefully, Ralph Bedwell.
timothy_dee
