They were my first

By Joe Rector

As much as I hate to admit it, I do check Facebook several times a day. Other platforms I avoid because I just don’t want to know too much about people or events. I don’t like Facebook, but I can keep up with birthdays and important events of friends and family. Not long ago, I saw a callout post from a former student. It is reunion time, and this one is doubly special. First, the class of ‘75 will celebrate its 50th anniversary of graduation. For me, this group is special because they were the first class in my teaching career.

It was August 1974. I’d completed my classes and earned a degree. During the summer, I painted dorm rooms for the university as I waited for interviews for teaching positions. Back then, securing a teaching job was much harder than today. Thus far, contacts had been nonexistent, and I was beginning to feel the panic set in.

Amy and I had begun dating in December 1973, and we were planning on marrying in December 1974. She would transfer from Tennessee Tech to UT to finish up her degree. However, the job prospects weren’t materializing, and I wasn’t so sure the wedding would take place, something that could bring joy to my future mother-in-law.

Ideally, staying in Cookeville and teaching would have been a perfect scenario, and Amy’s mom had connections with some folks who might help. As things turned out, the connections didn’t happen, and I never received an offer for the job.

At home, my mother, who had begun a teaching career when Jim and I entered first grade, decided to speak to Superintendent Mildred Doyle about a possible job for me. Both women were known for being straight shooters, and they admired that quality in each other. In late August, with little more than a week left of summer vacation, I was called about an interview to teach at Doyle High School. The principal was my high school principal, and I was hired. Thank you, God.

The first day of class, I walked into class wearing my new suit. My hair was fuller and darker back then. I would be teaching senior and freshman classes. My nerves frayed as the first class of seniors entered my classroom. Whispers and laughs only added to my nervous state. I wondered what I could teach these people. I didn’t know if they would listen to me or behave during class. It was the biggest craps shoot of my life.

I started out as a tough guy, and the bluff worked. At that time, corporal punishment was in use and teachers could administer it. I did so. The first person I ever paddled chose the swat over writing sentences for being late. They all laughed as I walked him to the office. The boy was a hulking man-child who could have crushed me. Instead, he complied with officials and assumed the position for his one “lick.”

He was startled by the swat, and his eyes watered just a bit. Upon entering the room, he shook his head when others began teasing. I suppose that was my lucky day. From then on, I developed as a teacher. Working with those folks was a bright spot in my career. I made friends with many of those students. The oldest student I had in the class was the same age as Amy. I was only 22 and was in charge of educating humans who were only a few years younger than I was.

The last day of classes before I was to leave for our wedding, those seniors threw me a party. Cake and drinks were passed out, and then the boy whom I had disciplined began handing me presents from the class. Among the items were protection, two bottles of PGA (pure grain alcohol), and a carton of cigarettes. I was never more surprised or touched.

Our wedding took place in a small Methodist church where Amy and I had met. At the designated time, I took my place in front with the minister and Jim, my best man. Nervously, I panned the audience. Most of the guests were folks whom I knew little or not at all. Then I spied the back row and shook my head. Seated there were Mike, Randy and Cindy, three students in my first period class.

I contacted Pam Ketron after seeing the reunion news to ask if I might be able to join their celebration. Yes, it was a pushy act on my behalf, but this class is special because they were my first, and all of us remember our first. Here’s hoping someone lets me know about the event.