I Don't Care Much for Geese

As I peered out of my kitchen window this weekend, I spotted a flock of geese flying overhead.  I can tolerate most animals (well, maybe not a snake, unless you really want to see me jump on top of a table and shriek in hysterics).  If there is one animal that I really don't care for, however, it is the goose.  I really didn’t have a problem with geese until 2003, the year I started at the last school for which I taught.  No, our archrival did not have a goose as a mascot, nor did a goose ever attack me in my sleep.  

For those who do not know, I was a band director for 18 years before I became a principal.  Part of my job that I absolutely loved was designing and teaching the marching band halftime show for football games.  When I was hired at this northern suburban Milwaukee school district, I was warned about the migrating geese that often times roosted in this area.  Geese?  Near Milwaukee?  You betcha!  Every day as the band took to the practice field, the musicians had the duty of chasing nearly a hundred geese who chose to use our “classroom” as their personal rest area on their trek south for the winter.  At first it was annoying to take time to clear these birds off of our field, but as time went on it became a fun ritual to see who could get the closest to these waterfowl.  It didn’t take me long, however, to discover that there was something even worse than the winged intruders on the marching field.  It was poop—goose poop.  If you have never experienced it, it is gross.  For most of first quarter, the band room smelled of nasty, smelly, goose poop.

No one in any teacher training course I took ever told me that I would encounter anything like aviary fecal matter in the classroom.  There are many things that they don’t teach you in college before you actually become a teacher.  It wouldn’t even matter if they did, for you wouldn’t believe it if your professors actually told you that certain events could occur.  Teacher preparation has come a long way since the late 80s.  Today, first-year teachers know more and are expected to do more to actually graduate and receive their licenses than many of us old timers could ever imagine.  As I reflect back to my first year of teaching in 1992, I wish I could just erase that year from history.  I am, however, blessed to know that I didn’t mess up too many of my students.  Actually, I recently found out that one of my freshmen from that year is now teaching social studies at a nearby middle school.  He told me that he remembers when I took the school’s jazz band to the Purdue Jazz Festival that year, and that particular trip helped inspire him to eventually choose that post-secondary institution.  It is scary that I inspired anyone that year.  I made so many mistakes, but don’t we all?  We must not give up when we make mistakes, but rather own up to them, strive to amend our shortcomings, and be determined to become the best educators we can be. 

I continue to make mistakes; I don’t have all the answers.  Sometimes I have to chase away the geese to get to the heart of the lesson.  Even after the geese are gone and the lesson is taught, there still may be goose poop to clean up.  Educators have one of the toughest but rewarding jobs on the planet.  Our classrooms may smell from time to time, but we know that when we persist, students will gain the knowledge and skills needed to be productive citizens in our global society, and be able to pass on the character traits that we strive to instill in them.