“Now look, pal! I know a country where March comes in like an emu and goes out like a tapir. And they don’t even know what it means!” — John Belushi
Do you remember listening to comedy albums? I sure do. In the 60’s, I inherited some classic Bill Cosby disks from my folks, plus the great Allan Sherman. I wore the grooves off his debut record (below), which featured tracks such as “The Ballad of Harry Lewis,” “Shake Hands with Your Uncle Max,” “My Zelda,” and “The Streets of Miami.”
According to the usually reliable Wikipedia, Sherman’s 1962 disk, “My Son, the Folksinger,” became the fastest-selling album up to that time. Think about that for a minute. Imagine everyone on the show “Mad Men” running around quoting Allan Sherman. Soon after, I guess, the Beatles showed up and changed everything.
The Cosby album that I loved was “I Started Out as a Child,” and again, I listened to it over and over again. Those routines are burned into my skull: “The Giant,” “Sneakers,” “Oops!,” “The Lone Ranger,” and “Ralph Jameson.”
As I got older, I remember when Pat Sweeney and I discovered his older brother’s album, “Big Bambu” by Cheech & Chong, which came out in 1971 (“Sister Mary Elephant,” “Ralphie and Herbie”). Oh my, oh my. The original album, as I recall, came packaged with rolling papers! We didn’t even know what they were for . . . yet. Comedy was taking on a new edge, an outsider status — and we loved that subversive quality. Just listening to it felt like a small criminal act. For that reason, we loved George Carlin, who raised the stakes considerably. In 1972, he came out with “Class Clown,” featuring “I Used to Be an Irish Catholic” and, most famously, “The Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television.”
Again, it’s hard to describe the naughty thrill we felt as boys huddled around the turntable. We lapped it up and laughed and laughed, and somehow that counter-cultural strain seeped into our consciousness and shaped the way we looked at the world. Looking back now, I realize that I was at the exact right age for that moment in America, a tween when all the hypocrisy was hilariously exposed.
In 1976, when I was fifteen, I got a new album for Christmas (it was on my list, taped to our refrigerator), featuring The Not-Ready-For-Prime-Time Players. We had moved past Watergate and Vietnam, the 60’s were morphing into the Carter era and Disco was beginning to thump from speakers — as the Sex Pistols began gearing up against the bloated rock excesses of bands like Pink Floyd — and somehow this troupe of Saturday Night Live regulars had its collective finger on the pulse of America.
The stars are now legendary: John Belushi, Garrett Morris, Gilda Radner, Jane Curtin, Dan Aykroyd, Loraine Newman, and Chevy Chase — with a memorable guest appearance from Richard Pryor (“Word Association”).
The one skit that inspired me to write this today came from John Belushi, as a high-strung weatherman. Here he plays with the notion of March coming in like a lion and out like a lamb. (See full transcript below.) You can also click here to listen to a 30-second snippet of that routine, plus many other classics (“Emily Litella,” “News for the Hard of Hearing,” “Uvula,” “Dueling Brandos,” “Jimmy Carter,” and more). I loved that album, just as I loved the excitement of staying up late to watch the weekly show.
It may be an overstatement to say that comedy was dangerous, but it was definitely no longer my dad’s old Allan Sherman albums. Times had changed and it was reflected in what made us laugh.
Here’s the skit:
Chevy Chase:
Last week we made the comment that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. Now here to reply is our chief meteorologist, John Belushi, with a seasonal report.
John Belushi:
Thank you Chevy. Well, another winter is almost over and March true to form has come in like a lion, and hopefully will go out like a lamb. At least that’s how March works here in the United States.
But did you know that March behaves differently in other countries? In Norway, for example, March comes in like a polar bear and goes out like a walrus. Or, take the case of Honduras where March comes in like a lamb and goes out like a salt marsh harvest mouse.
Let’s compare this to the Maldive Islands where March comes in like a wildebeest and goes out like an ant. A tiny, little ant about this big.
(holds thumb and index fingers a small distance apart)
Unlike the Malay Peninsula where March comes in like a worm-eating fernbird and goes out like a worm-eating fernbird. In fact, their whole year is like a worm-eating fernbird.
Or consider the Republic of South Africa where March comes in like a lion and goes out like a different lion. Like one has a mane, and one doesn’t have a mane. Or in certain parts of South America where March swims in like a sea otter, and then it slithers out like a giant anaconda.
There you can buy land real cheap, you know. And there’s a country where March hops in like a kangaroo, and stays a kangaroo for a while, and then it becomes a slightly smaller kangaroo. Then, then, then for a couple of days it’s sort of a cross between a, a frilled lizard and a common house cat.
(Chevy Chase tries to interrupt him)
Wait wait wait wait. Then it changes back into a smaller kangaroo, and then it goes out like a, like a wild dingo. Now, now, and it’s not Australia! Now, now, you’d think it would be Australia, but it’s not!
(Chevy Chase tries to interrupt him)
Now look, pal! I know a country where March comes in like an emu and goes out like a tapir. And they don’t even know what it means! All right? Now listen, there are nine different countries, where March comes in like a frog, and goes out like a golden retriever. But that- that’s not the weird part! No, no, the weird part is, is the frog. The frog- The weird part is-
(has seizure and falls off chair)
—
As a final comment, and coming full circle, I have to confess to lifting some of those ideas for a brief scene in Jigsaw Jones Super Special #1: The Case of the Buried Treasure (maybe my favorite out of all the Jigsaw books, and amazingly still in print). I don’t think I consciously made that connection to Belushi and SNL, but in hindsight I can see that my roots were showing.
Setup: Jigsaw and Mila are at the bus stop, talking with Joey Pignattano. Note to teachers: the book focuses a bit on similes — it’s a minor theme running through the story — and you may find that instructive/helpful.
“I was wondering,” Joey Pignattano said to me. “What kind of animal do you think January would be?”
“What?!” I replied.
“I mean, if January were an animal, what kind of animal would it be?” Joey pondered.
“Do you understand what he’s talking about, Mila?” I asked. “Because I sure don’t.”
Mila smiled. At least I think she smiled. There was a big, fluffly scarf wrapped around her head like a hungry boa constrictor. “Maybe Joey is trying to think of a simile,” she offered.
Joey nodded gratefully. “You know how they say March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? Well, I’m thinking that January would be an aardvark.”
I sighed. “Let me get this straight. March comes in like a lion. So you think January comes in like . . . an aardvark?”
“Yes,” Joey answered. “Or do you think maybe it’s more like an American bald eagle?”
“A woolly mammoth,” Mila stated.
I turned to her in surprise. “Nuh-uh,” I retorted. “January is definitely a skunk. This weather stinks.”
While I was writing it, if I had any idea that was going to be a hit, it probably would have come out differently and it wouldn’t have been a hit. That just came real fast, a blaze, a blur.”
—John Hartford
Here’s another one of those songs that I recall hearing in my earliest years — a song that was not chosen or selected by me, it was just there, leaking through the airwaves — a song that I only gradually came to recognize as a work of genius. Again: This improbable hit, written in 1967 by John Hartford, struck my tender self as fairly uncool. This was not the hard rock blasting through the walls of my brothers’ rooms. For starters, Glen Campbell had huge success with it and used it as the theme song for his cornball variety show; hell, my grandmother liked Glen Campbell — and she didn’t have teeth! We forget nowadays just how uncool — how reviled — country music was at the time. It was Redneck Music, hillbilly stuff. Those were the people who actually liked the Vietnam War. Or at least so we, the Lords of Popular Opinion, thought.
An aside: It’s another reason how stunning and courageous it was when Dylan went country with “Nashville Skyline”; he was showing respect to a form of music that rockers of the time openly mocked. But we’ll push that big topic aside for another day, the Dylan book I’ll probably never write.
The song has aged extremely well. “Gentle On My Mind” has been covered by everybody, including hipsters of all varieties. One of my favorite versions, not available on Youtube, is by Mark Eitzel, formerly of the San Francisco-based band, American Music Club. Fans of the song might want to track down Eitzel’s version off his covers CD, “Music for Courage & Confidence.” Available on iTunes for 99 cents.
Another favorite artist, Lucinda Williams, recorded it for the odious movie, “Talladega Nights” (it played while the credits mercifully rolled).
Scroll down a second and take a look at those insane, long-winded lyrics. What a mouthful. How does a singer deliver all that? You get those incredible rolling lines, a sense of naturalistic movement aided by Hartford’s artful use of enjambment. The lyric moves and flows like the Mississippi River that John Hartford loved as a child. There’s surprising turns of phrase everywhere, flashing moments that grab my ear: ‘It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that bind me/Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking.”
I love that crazy collision of almost archaic poesy crashing against the syntax of the common tongue; “something that somebody said” indeed. As my buddy Craig Walker used to say, “It’s the damnedest thing.” And I’m sure he must have loved that song, because Craig loved those moments whenever high art and low art met. After all, his favorite movie was “Five Easy Pieces.” But again, thinking of Craig, I digress.
Here’s a few versions for your enjoyment (or mine, I suppose).
Dean Martin:
Jim Ed Brown:
John Hartford & Glen Campbell:
Elvis Presley:
It’s knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it’s knowing I’m not shackled by forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking
It’s just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you’re moving on the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry
And for hours you’re just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clotheslines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman’s crying to her mother cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me till I’m blind
But not to where I cannot see you walking on the backroads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurgling, crackling cauldron in some train yard
My beard a roughened coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands round a tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you’re wavin’ from the backroads by the rivers of my mem’ry
Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind
On Facebook, it’s popular for people to make lists of the 25 albums that “affected them profoundly.” As a music lover, I figured such a list was for me, but found it an impossible and wholly unsatisfying task. Yet I couldn’t quite let go of the idea.
Eventually it struck that a mere list was part of the problem. I needed to talk about the music a little, why it meant something to me. You see, music has played a central role in my life for as long as I can remember. The youngest of seven children, I inherited a great, vast collection of 60’s/70’s music. Recalling these albums, I began to see my life unspooling, circling like a needle on vinyl, as my growing mind took on new shapes, colors, and sounds.
A friend of mine, a 7th grade English teacher, recently read my upcoming novel, Bystander (Feiwel and Friends, Fall ’09). One line that he mentioned to me — and it’s often surprising to hear what folks connect with, or what gets quoted in reviews — was this: “Music helps.” And I think it does, and certainly has for me, just as it helps that book’s central character, Eric Hayes.
So appropos of nothing, here goes . . . something.
1) Batman, Original TV Soundtrack Album
I got this as a kid and wore it out. Actually, I think I got bubble gum stuck on it. But nevermind! It was the first album I’d reach for, over and over again, wearing a towel as a cape, pretend-fighting the Penguin, the Joker, the Riddler, King Tut and more. And I always, always won.
2) Monkees – Greatest Hits
Another childhood favorite, watching that silly TV show and listening to my sister Jean’s Monkees albums. As I grew up, my tastes became more sophisticated, and it took me another couple of decades before I fully appreciated the pure pop structures and giant, tooth-decaying hooks of these Boyce and Hart tunes.
3) Beatles – White Album
The Beatles have to be on here and this is the one I’d pick, despite all the flaws and warts, or perhaps because of them. Everything’s already been said about this disk, and this band; I just keep coming back to it, and hearing new things, finding new favorites, and it’s been more than 40 years ago today. I remember my brothers coming home with this one, and that strange plain white cover, the gatefold, and the four glossy photos inside. That’s how I learned their names, quizzed by my elders: “This one is Ringo, that’s George, he’s John, and the other one is Paul.”
4) Led Zeppelin – s/t
With four older brothers and two older sisters, I inherited one of the great record collections of all-time. We had everything, it was when classic rock was NEW, and I listened to it all at a very young age. I remember when this disk came out and how I liked the cover of that blimp exploding. Probably my first “heavy” album. This video is a cheat, “Immigration Song,” from the (underrated) 3rd album — but definitely definitive with a monster riff.
5) Andrew Lloyd Webber – Jesus Christ Superstar
I have a very specific memory of when my oldest brother, Neal, brought this album home. We were a Catholic-school family, and the very idea of this disk kind of freaked my mother out. True story: All seven kids crowded into Neal’s room — this was 1970, so I must have been nine — and we listened to it all the way through, both disks. And Mom and Dad were not thrilled. It gave me the inkling that rock could be dangerous, driving a wedge between generations. How cool was that?! Also: a great lyric booklet to study and sing along with! “Prove to me that you’re no fool/Walk across my swimming pool!”
6) Yes – The Yes Album
Like so many vets, my brother Bill returned home from Vietnam with a most excellent stereo system –- including one of those (cheesy) light boxes, with flashing colored lights that responded to the music. I remember sitting in his room, a bunch of his friends gathered around, listing to this album and just staring in red-eyed stupification at that dumb light box. Music became . . . a head thing. Steve Howe was probably my first guitar hero.
7) Allman Brothers – Fillmore East
Maybe not the greatest collection of tunes ever assembled –- and I am absolutely a song craft geek who loves Burt Bacharach and the Brill Building-era songwriters -– but the performances on this live album are staggering. Duane Allman at the peak of his prowess, that slide guitar rising up from some deep backwoods place, Dicky Betts playing alongside him, the two drummers churning, moving it all forward, Greg Allman’s white-boy soul-stirring vocals. This is also a double disk and one that defined a certain time and place for me, one of the first “air guitar” albums where you just had to play along. A great guitar album that still makes me think of an old childhood friend, Jimmy A, a transplanted Georgia boy who loved his Allmans.
8) Jimi Hendrix – Electric Ladyland
This is the first disk where Hendrix really took control in the studio, and thusly spread his wings and waved his freak flag in the sky. I’m stunned by the variety, the skill, the confident cool of this double disk. And I still get a kick out of listening to “Still Raining, Still Dreaming” on my headphones, hearing that guitar whoosh through my brain, one ear to the other, like some kind of 60’s skull rinse.
9) Neil Young – After the Gold Rush
One of the ultimate singer/songwriter disks, filled with sad lonely tunes from a sensitive young Canadian. It was a revelation: Oh, a boy can have feelings -– and express them?! “Oh, oh, lonesome me . . . .” Everybody, it seems, has a sad summer that they spend listening to Neil Young, and this was the album I heard. “Only Love Can Break Your Heart,” indeed. But, hey: “Don’t Let It Bring You Down.” This is a disk that makes me remember certain people, specific times, and it’s all good.
10) Bob Dylan – Blonde on Blonde
If I had to pick one Dylan album –- and I have nearly all of them –- this has to be the one. Or maybe “Blood on the Tracks?” Or “Highway 61 Revisited?” Anyway: Ranging from the pure blues of “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat” to the visionary, surreal writing of “Visions of Johanna,” this is Dylan’s magnum opus. Here’s Bob at the height of his powers. He is absolutely my favorite all-time musician/songwriter; I consider him the greatest American artist, any genre, of the 20th century –- and he’s still kicking. No one is in second place.
11) Rolling Stones – Exile on Main Street
The template for a style of rock and roll I still love today, sprawling, a little sloppy, a little dirty, raw and imperfect. It’s about the spirit, not the polish. This isn’t a great singles collection, but a unified whole, though “Tumbling Dice” was the cool kids’ tune for the summer of 1972, But still: “Rocks Off,” “Sweet Virginia,” “Loving Cup,” “Ventilator Blues,” “Shine a Light,” 18 songs that define rock and roll. Also, amazing piano on this one from the unheralded Nicky Hopkins.
12) Genesis – The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway
This is the album that made me pour over the liner notes and parse the lyrics, attempting to figure out what the hell they were writing about. The story puzzled and intrigued me. While most prog has not dated well, this disk still stands up for me –- even if I’m still not sure what’s going on in this concept album’s surreal tale. Vintage Peter Gabriel on voice, some understated solos and guitar effects by Steve Hackett, great drum fills by Phil Collins, production touches from the great Brian Eno, Tony Rutherford on bass, and maybe too much keyboard wankiness from Tony Banks; it created a world and swept me away. Clip: Excerpt from “Supper’s Ready,” from “Foxtrot,” a song inspired by the Book of Revelations.
13) Stiffs Live
My first true introduction to punk, this 1977 compilation kind of baffled and frightened me. Uneven and imperfect, it nonetheless featured a rowdy take on Nick Lowe’s “I Knew the Bride,” “Wake Up and Make Love with Me” by Ian Dury and the Blockheads, and Elvis Costello and gang doing the mock-anthemic, “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll & Chaos,” the way another generation might play, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” At a time when I was impressed by musical virtuosity, this disk helped me value the importance of attitude.
14) Talking Heads – More Songs About Buildings and Food
It was 1978 and I was still listening to prog bands like Yes and Genesis, though that was clearly dying, when my oldest brother visited from NYC and handed me this brand-new disk. It took a little while before I got it, and it sent me hurtling in a new musical direction. I went on to become a huge Talking Heads fan for much of the 80’s . . . until they ran out of steam.
15) David Bowie – Ziggy Stardust
Here’s the English dandy, the art rock, the glam side of things. When so many in my environment were listening to southern rock or heavy metal, I was seduced by this disk’s crazy artistic pretensions and writerly concerns. “Starman,” “Suffragette City,” “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide” –- and it’s not just me. This is one of the most influential albums ever made. Music aspiring to . . . art. Connecting to Marc Bolan and T. Rex, and Robert Fripp, Brian Eno, Talking Heads, U2, etc.
16) The Clash – London Calling
Is this list too obvious? Am I boring you? Well, what can I say except, um, too bad. Released at the dawn of the Reagan Era, the Clash collectively cemented themselves as the only band that mattered. To me, the perfection of snarling punk spirit, with great songwriting and energetic performances that embrace ska, punk, rock, and even a touch of Motown. Mick Jones and Joe Strummer forever. This came out my first year of college and when I hear it, that’s where I am again, every time.
17) Richard and Linda Thompson – Shoot Out the Lights
Thompson is one of my musical heroes, an inventor of folk-rock, master guitarist, brilliant songwriter. And Linda has the voice of an angel. These deep, penetrating, personal tunes combine to make one of the great records, ever. That Richard & Linda’s marriage was breaking up during the recording of this disk somehow makes it all the more harrowing: “Shoot Out the Lights.” The track below, “A Heart Needs a Home,” is a cheat; it originally appeared on the album, “Hokey Pokey,” but it’s such a nice moment I had to share it.
18) John Coltrane – A Love Supreme
This is the sound of the soul unfolding, pure and free, a master of his instrument searching, experimenting, going off. Absolutely wild, it represents the opening up of all possibility in music. Not at all the slick jazz I once listened too – you know, those albums for “refined tastes” – this was as insane and alive as anything ever put on vinyl. He was a giant and to listen to this was to stand in his footprints.
19) REM – Murmur
Here was another album that came along, around 1984 or so, and made me rethink music. Punk and New Wave had come and gone, bland Hair Bands were ruling the airwaves, and this raggedy collection of guys from Athens, Georgia –- of all places –- arrived with a new sound. And what was up with that singer? What was he mumbling about? The guitarist wasn’t that good, but he had a certain something. They struck me as fresh and original. These guys only got better for a nice long stretch . . . until they got worse. Hey, it happens.
20) The Band – Music from Big Pink
Great American roots rock -– from a bunch of Canadians. The songwriting, the musicianship, the blend of traditional (“Long Black Veil”) and the new (“Chest Fever”), with some classics thrown in: “The Weight,” “This Wheel’s On Fire,” “I Shall Be Released.” The arrangements are ragged and rough, no shiny veneer at all, blending country, rock, R & B, folk, and soul. A perfect document of a particular place and time –- and also, timeless.
21) Beach Boys – Pet Sounds
It took me a long while to come to this album, since I tended to dismiss the Beach Boys as dumb surf dudes who were writing superficial ditties. Somewhere along the line I discovered song craft, and melody, and harmony, and realized that Brian Wilson was a genius, and that this was his shining hour. “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times,” “God Only Knows.” This clip kills me.
22) Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On
I love 70’s soul, all those great singles, but this is the album, the unified whole, that transcended the genre. The nine songs lead directly into each other in a fluid song cycle that addresses themes such as the Vietnam War, drug abuse, the environment, economics, justice –- and you could dance to it. A disk that amazes me. “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology),” “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler),” “What’s Going On,” “Save the Children.” If you’ve never heard this as an album straight through, then you are in for a treat.
23) Bob Marley – Songs of Freedom Box
This is a cheat, of course, because it’s a box set and has nearly everything, but that’s only because for Marley it wasn’t about one disk or one song. He was the first World Music superstar, and he opened my ears to sounds outside the familiar comfort zone of my own Western culture. Beyond the easy riddums and sunny vibe, there’s this incredible man writing deep, meaningful tunes. “Redemption Song,” anyone?
24) Guided By Voices – Bee Thousand
This came out in 1994 and introduced me to the lo-fi, indie scene, with beguiling, hook-laden tunes recorded in a basement. From the opening fuzz of “Hardcore UFO’s,” here’s a 30-song buckshot of unfinished ideas, broken melodies, and hipster cool. Again, an album that just sort of changed my ideas of what an album could be. They were doing it themselves, without permission from the big record companies.
25) Elliott Smith – Either/Or
Styles change, but it always comes back to the songs for me, and the songwriter. Some guy at a piano, or idly strumming a guitar, picking out a melody. So I’ll end with this 1997 disk by Elliott Smith. Depression, drug addiction, suicide, and great songs: What more could you ask for? (Life, O life!) An indie darling with hushed vocals, as far from arena rock bombast as you could get, Smith connects Nick Drake with the Beatles, Ray Davies with Big Star, AC/DC with Modest Mouse. And of course he admired Dylan. Said Smith, “I love Dylan’s words, but even more than that, I love the fact that he loves words.” Elliott Smith died on October 21, 2003, and he is missed.
I recently picked up Jack Rightmyer’s book, A Funny Thing About Teaching. The subhead/tagline reads: Connecting with Kids Through Laughter . . . and Other Pointers for New Teachers.
A secondary teacher since 1980, Jack currently teaches seventh grade English at Bethlehem Middle School in Delmar, New York. Yes, that’s around the corner from me. Jack is also a book reviewer for a Schenectady newspaper, The Daily Gazette. Though we have some mutual friends, Jack and I have only spoken once in real life (and it was fabulous).
Not to belabor a point I’ve made before, but as a reader I often seek out books that will help me as a writer. Reading Jack’s book inspired me to totally rethink a character in my new (untitled) book. I initially felt that the story needed an unsympathetic teacher, someone who was unable to deal with a difficult student. But after reading Something Funny About Teaching, I saw that teacher in a whole new light. He became human. And I felt the story gain heft, and truth, and I watched as it turned like a big boat in troubled water.
Anyway, it’s a Snow Day here in the Great Northeast. Here’s Jack walking up the path now . . .
Day off today, huh, Jack? Life’s rough. Are you familiar with any snow day superstitions? Did you wear your pajamas backwards last night?
I don’t do that pajama thing, but I do pretend there’s no storm coming and I make my lunch and go to bed at the usual time. That way if I get a day off it’s a real treat!
Congratulations on publishing your first book, A Funny Thing About Teaching. I really enjoyed it. I’ve been doing some research about, for lack of a better term, “class clowns.” You know, those kids who fall into the “bright but challenging” category. And I came across something that reminded me of you. The writer advised teachers that rather than try to squelch the “bad” behavior, they should go with theirs guts — and laugh.
It took me a while to learn this, but that’s true. Most of the ‘class clowns’ are usually pretty funny. In fact, I was a class clown most of the time when I was in school. It took me a while to feel confidant that they weren’t really laughing at me, but at the atmosphere and restrictions of school itself. In 29 years of teaching I’ve encountered maybe 5 kids that seemed scary and dangerous to me. Kids are generally energetic and fun and why should teachers try to stop that. We should use that to teach our classes. It also helped that just down the hall from me was a teacher, Paul O’Brien, who modeled how to teach and have fun at the same time. Kids never seemed to give him a hard time, and I used to sit in his class and watch how he did that, how he juggled the content with the humor. He was a magician.
In some ways, I see you passing on that torch with this book. Not that you come off like Charlton Heston coming down from the mountain . . .
. . . but that in an informal, friendly way you are mentoring, passing along some of the things you’ve learned as a teacher.
I hope so. I also hope that my students see that I’m having so much fun teaching they might want to try this when they have to get a real job.
When you first began your career, you were anxious and insecure. You took the task very seriously. In other words, you were scared out of your socks.
That’s right. I thought I was supposed to be some tough, no-nonsense teacher, and I hated every second of it. In the afternoons though I coached the cross country team and was able to laugh and joke and coach the runners at the same time. I’ll never forget one of the runners saying to me, “Mr. Rightmyer, you’re so much fun at practice. How come you don’t teach this way?” That line really got to me.
Tell me about that advice you got in the teacher’s lounge, “Don’t smile until Christmas.”
I think a lot of the veteran teachers saw me as this young twenty-two-year old kid who was going to get chewed up and spit out by the high school classes. I actually grew a mustache the summer before I began teaching so I could look a bit older.
Oh, that’s hysterical. Nobody would dare mess with The Mustache! Was it one of those baseball mustaches, you know, nine hairs on each side? Or were you like some studly Keith Hernandez?
A photo is worth a thousand words . . .
Good God, Jack! I just fell off my chair! Warn me next time you do that. That photo is so great, it should have its own website. Anyway, you were saying about the advice other teachers gave you . . .
These teachers cared about me. They wanted me to get off to a good start, and they felt I needed to come down hard on the students. Before my first class, some of these teachers got me so worked up I felt like I was going in as a prison guard and not as an English teacher.
The irony was that while you accomplished many of your disciplinary goals in the classroom, you discovered that you had made yourself miserable in the process. And the kids were bored out of their minds.
I was a fake. I hated everything about it. I hated being a tough guy. That has never been my personality, and the truth was, I could never be a tough guy. The tough kids saw through that right away.
Kids can spot a phony a mile away. If you aren’t real, they will eat you alive. I think it’s true with books, too.
And I was a definite phony. But the track kids liked me from the start because they knew who I really was. We’d go for eight mile runs and laugh the whole time. My runners were doing well, improving their times, winning meets, and most importantly we were having fun. All I needed to do was figure out how to do this in the classroom!
It was as if a light bulb went off and you decided, “Why not have fun?”
It occurred to me pretty quickly that I loved the coaching because it was fun, and the teaching had not been fun. When I taught I was uptight, nervous, and unsure of what I was doing.
But not every teacher can be, or should be, George Carlin. And honestly, reading your book, it wasn’t so much the humor that jumped out at me, but the importance of being true to yourself.
My job is to teach and not to be a comedian, but funny things happen all the time in the classroom, and if I’m relaxed and aware I’m able to see those things happening and I can usually use them to teach the class or at least energize and motivate my students.
While you give due credit to the central importance of delivering content in the classroom, you also spend a lot of time and effort on relationship-buildiing.
I teach seventh grade, and many of these kids aren’t so cute anymore. These are some difficult years for many of my students and I might be the only one that will really listen to them during the day. They’re not quite adults and not quite kids anymore, and I actually find them very amusing. I love their insights into the stories we read. I love how raw they can be. Most of them don’t have filters yet, and I think they know they’re safe to say things to me and I won’t get upset. Yes, the content is important, but connecting with them is just as important.
There’s a blog I enjoy reading, called Two Writing Teachers. These women are so dedicated and talented, I’m really impressed by them. One of them, Ruth Ayres, spoke to this issue the other day. Forgive me for quoting this at length, but it’s so right on:
“Sometimes we get caught up in having the perfect plan, the perfect lesson, the perfect unit, the perfect curriculum, and our students producing the perfect pieces. This isn’t what really matters. A middle school student, Jessica, reminded me of this.
I was simply walking to my office when I saw her in the hallway. She smiled and I said, “Hi Jessica.” Her response — “You remembered my name.” I smiled; I had been in her classroom for two days. Then she chatted with me about the trouble she was having with her draft — getting the meaning to come out. Later in the week I conferred with Jessica. We talked about focusing her poem and a bit more about her meaning. Friday afternoon Jessica saw me in the hall again, smiled, and waved. It struck me then. Jessica probably won’t remember the details of our writing conference in years to come. What she will remember, though, is that I cared about her. I cared enough to remember her name. I cared enough to sit down one on one and have a conversation with her. I cared enough to smile and wave good bye on a Friday afternoon.
Those are the things that really matter. The things we do to care enough for our students.”
That’s what it’s all about, and I wish more teachers knew that. I didn’t know that when I started teaching. All I knew was that my students were supposed to be quiet and doing work. Once I began to see them as REAL people that I actually cared about, that’s when they started to do some REAL work.
What about when humor gets out of hand? Aren’t you opening up a can of worms when you give everyone permission to yuck it up?
I explain early in the year the differences between appropriate and inappropriate humor, and I still have quite a few students who never get it.
Put-down humor? I still have trouble with it. And by the way, your ears are really stupid, Mr. Rightmyer.
I wish my ears were the problem. I usually get bald jokes from the kids.
Once I had a kid tell me in front of the entire class “Your fly is down.” I said, “There’s no way I’m gonna fall for that one.” And that’s when the entire class laughed. My fly actually was down and my shirt was even sticking out of my fly. You either laugh at that or quit your job and move to Canada.
I also mention that I like to laugh, but if we can’t settle down and get back to our lesson then we can’t have the freedom to laugh on occasion. The kids get it, and most of them know when enough is enough. I’ve been teaching twenty-two years at Bethlehem, and I haven’t sent anyone out of the room for misbehavior in at least twenty years. I think the kids have learned to respect me and when I say, “Enough,” they don’t push the envelope.
In the book, you quote an article, “Discipline Zingers,” by John O’Neil (NEA Today, January, 2004). The author made an interesting point: “Kids today have the same needs as always – to be accepted, competent, respected – but they seem needier than ever.” Has that been your experience?
Yes, I think kids are needier today. So many families are in distress. So many families are broken up and dysfunctional, and so many kids today don’t know how to form relationships. They’re plugged into their iPods and playing video games. But at their core, all kids are still very much the same from one generation to another.
Overall, how did the publishing experience go for you? Obviously, as is true for all writers, now you are fabulously wealthy like J.K. Rowling.
I was lucky to find this publisher. My book isn’t quite a memoir and it’s not quite a teacher resource book either. It’s a small company in Colorado, Cottonwood Press, but they put together nice books. I haven’t made a lot of money, but that was never what it was all about for me. I just love the idea of writing as a way to reflect on something and think through a problem. I just finished another book about how I wanted to be a writer but ended up as a teacher. I had fun writing that one, too.
Wait up, hold on, you lost me. You think writing is . . . fun? What in sweet Lincoln’s mullet (gratuitous Anchorman reference) are you talking about?
Writing is more fun than correcting 120 essays. And I once had a job cleaning out sewers, writing is more fun than that!
Point taken. When will your new book be published? Will it have a title — or are you going for, like, a Beatles “White Album” effect?
I just finished my first draft and I’m calling it “Disturb the Universe: Write.” It’s another part-memoir and part “How To” book. I explain why I always liked to read and write as a kid, how I thought I’d one day be a famous journalist with Time Magazine, and how I ended up teaching at my old high school. I also give some advice about how to write and how to teach writing. Hopefully the book will have a few laughs and also some good advice in it. I’m hoping it will come out next fall some time, but I’m still very early in the publishing process
with it.
Good luck, Jack. It sounds like you are on a roll. Okay, buckle up: Lightning Round!Favorite books to use in your classroom?
Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko; The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury; And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie; Endor’s Game by Orson Scott Card; The Girl Who Owned a City by O. T. Nelson; Trouble with Lemons by Daniel Hayes; poems, short stories; essays by Dave Barry. On the adult side, I love books by Richard Russo. My favorite of his books is The Risk Pool. Probably my favorite book of all time is The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien.
Yes! The Things They Carried is definitely in my Top Ten. It’s perfect. I’ve read it a few times. The audiotape is also outstanding. Russo, of course, is always great. I’m also a huge, huge Richard Ford fan.
My favorite book on writing is Bird by Bird by Anne LaMott, and I love the wacky humor of David Sedaris especially found in his collection Naked.
Favorite music?
I love all types of music from REM to Radiohead to Neil Young and Coldplay. I’m one of the few people who can play a Ramones CD and then follow it up with a Beethoven symphony.
Wow, Jack. I just realized: We’re brothers from another mother! How about movies?
My favorite movie of all time is “Chariots of Fire,” and I’m a sucker for those sports movies like “The Cinderella Man” and “Rudy.” If I could I’d go to a movie every night of the week. My two favorite movies this year have been “The Visitor” and “Frozen River.”
Athletes?
My favorite athlete of all time was Carl Yastrzemski. I also admire Jesse Owens and Jackie Robinson.
Yaz! As a kid, I used to imitate how he held his bat. I’ll have to tell you my Carl Yastrzemski story one day — he taught me how to read! Sort of. Anyway, thanks for stopping by, it was a real pleasure. Please accept this XB-500 electric moped, equipped with brushless rear hub motor and powered by three chipmunks, as a parting gift.
