The Men The World Needs More Of

Male Role Models for the next generation

My friend and fellow Splice Today contributor Oliver Bateman published a piece today called The Work of Manliness. It is about writer and podcaster Brett McKay and his wife, Kate. In this piece, Mr. McKay talks about his grandfather, a guy who was handy, could survive, served in a war and was an all around solid fellow. I had never heard of Mr. McKay before, but I will check out his work. I love stories of men being the kind of men we want to look up to, lead our country, have our sons turn out to be and our daughters marry.

[Caveat: as my daughter is a cat, that would be weird. So I’m using a more general “our."]

I’ve often written about how one of the joys of teaching in good charters that serve the toughest neighborhoods and do it well is watching the male teachers and administrators model proper adult male behavior. You actually want a principal or an assistant principal to be calm, kind, and in control of the situation. Watching the men I interact with professionally in their roles supporting teachers and students makes me feel sorry for all those man-bashing people who want to beat every instinct out of boys that makes them, when raised properly, turn into the kind of men who can actually care for and protect our human tribe.

It’s the tiniest of little things, the things you might not notice if you weren’t the kind of person who notices everything.

I walked into my favorite school this morning, happy to be back. Even though I love the other one, my favorite feels like my home. I miss the kids when I’m not there. I’m afraid they’ll develop a form of scurvy from sticker deficiency.

I was wearing a long printed skirt that I love to wear in summer. It’s a floral hippie skirt that could also be worn by one of those beautiful modern Orthodox women in Israel. I still had shoes on for walking around and being on my feet all day, but I was not dressed for PE.

And for the first time, I was subbing PE.

Okay. What’s the first rule of improv comedy and substitute teaching? Whatever happens, go with it!

“Good morning Mr. M!” I said to the principal as I headed to the gym.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Ms. Smith,” he said. He always greets me by my name. Same with the other teachers. He makes everyone feel seen and respected. Honestly, I get more respect on this job than I did at jobs where I made four times as much money.

He had made a change to the location of my classes, so that we would do health work as assigned by the teacher in classrooms, not in the gym.

“That’s great. I’ve been hit by a basketball.”

“And that’s far from the worst thing that has happened when there was a sub in PE,” he said. I’d love to hear his stories. Maybe sometime I will.

He filled in my schedule and brought me the rosters (not roosters!) a few minutes later. He started to highlight the names of kids who could take attendance for me, but I told him that I like to call the names myself so that I can learn all of their names.

Think about that for a minute, especially those of you who have taught. The principal is in the hall, greeting the kids and teachers in the morning first thing. He takes the time and care to arrange a whole day, moving people around, so that the sub and the kids are safest when the PE teacher is out. He comes to the room himself instead of sending someone else and annotates the list. And he gets why I want to know all the kids’ names. Because I want to be real. I want so much to be real that sometimes I almost cry. But I wait till I get home to cry.

Over the course of the day, various staff check in. The deans are in the hall, kindly and lovingly reminding the kids to get to class! No one is wandering. No one is lost. The sweet children see me looking for a room and ask if they can help. The truth is I know the place even better than the teachers because I go to so many rooms, but it’s so nice to see the kids extend that spirit of helpfulness. They see that modeled by the adults and they pick up on it.

When you teach in an urban district you can lose all hope. I did, once. I had given up, until I found just these three schools. Maybe there are more in the same system but I’m loyal to mine.

Black men, white men, Jewish men, Hispanic men, Asian men, all showing young boys how it is that men should behave. Respect for women. Respect for teachers and education. Let the lady walk ahead first. The young men students hold the door for me, without fail. They are more polite than a large percentage of men I’ve been on dates with (subscribers not a part of that - all my exes were perfect gentlemen and I trust still are!)

Making eye contact. Treating everyone like they really, really matter. On Friday afternoon after the snow storm, when I knew Mr. M was tired because I’d heard him mention that his child had been sick at home the whole storm to another teacher in the teachers’ lounge, I saw him patiently helping a kid open their locker. That means the world to that child. In a community where there is chaos, crime and instability, the principal helps you get your locker open. You matter. Imagine the other scenario, where no one cared that the student couldn’t get their things. Imagine what it felt like to be a student who was ignored when they had needs. The whole course of that child’s life could be changed by Mr. M. hanging out on the school floor fiddling with a combination lock.

They aren’t easy on the kids. They are tough in a way that men can be and need to be, especially with each other. Growing boys need men to discipline them. This is just a fact and if my liberal friends want to freak out, have at, just go pull a few shifts subbing where I work and come back to tell me how you feel.

No matter what happens, I’ve been blessed to be a part of this. I don’t want to leave… today I could say to the beautiful and amazing AP Ms. M. that yes, I’ll see her tomorrow, because I’m on the schedule. I want to say that every day.

If I get a full time job I won’t be able to write about it much, as I have to avoid being identifiable. But you get the idea. There is hope. Order can be returned to the galaxy. There is light. It isn’t in people screaming in the streets. It isn’t protests. It’s in the way we can choose to educate our children. It’s the small gestures that build community, belonging, purpose and love.

Charlotte the Tarantula is doing well. She loves it there too.