City Views - eCommons@Cornell - Cornell University

'What opportunities had I created for students to
see that our work had worth beyond my gradebook?'
Learning
to Teach
BY ELIOT WIGGINTON
Iam a public high school English
teacher.
Occasionally, on gloomy
nights, my mood shifts in subtle
ways, and familiar questions risein
my throat; in social situations, confronted
by those whose lives seem
somehow more dramatic, an implication
in the air is that I will have little of
interest to contribute to the conversation;
many people with fewer years of
formal education make more money.
Then the mood passes, for I know that
surface appearance is deceitful and
salary is a bogus yardstick of worth.
I teach because it is something I
do well; it is a craft I enjoy and am intrigued
by; there is room within its
certain boundaries for infinite variety
and flexibility of approach, and so if I
become bored or my work becomes
routine, I have no one to blame but
myself; and unlike other jobs I could
have, I sometimes receive indications
that I am making a difference in the
quality of people's lives. That, and one
more thing: I genuinely enjoy daily
contact with the majority of the people
with whom I work.
In 1966 the job that I was given in
Rabun Gap, Georgia, was to teach
Eliot Wίgginton '65, editor of the
Foxfire books, teaches high school in
Rabun Gap, Georgia.
English to all the ninth- and tenthgrade
students in the school. I was also
given one section of geography.
That amounted to six classes a
day—no free periods—for a state salary
of less than $400 a month.
FAILURE
In mid-October of that first year at
Rabun Gap-Nacoochee School I
wrote to a friend: "The majority of
the community students are ill-prepared
and restless. School is a
place where they can show off their
cars, their cigarette packs, make social
contacts, and a place they are required
to attend by law and against
their own wills.
'One class in particular grates. It
has about four'A' dorm students, and
twenty-four rearing community ones
who can't pass a thing they are taking.
They enter my class, turn off their
ears, turn on their mouths, and settle
down for a period of socializing. Every
time I think I've gotten through to
some of them, one of two things happens—either
someone belches and
breaks the spell, or the period ends
and they are out in the free world
again where the last fifty minutes
evaporate like mist from dry ice. They
really do not see why they should have
English, and in a sudden revelation
several days ago I suddenly realized
AEliotWigginton
teaches. He
has finally written
the book he
wishes he had
twenty years ago.
Cornell Alumni News
28