NOT WORKING UP TO HIS POTENTIAL

‘Not working up to his potential’. I got that comment a lot on my report card when I was in school; I also got ‘Needs To Apply Himself’ quite a bit. I always got those comments in the classes that I hated: Metal Shop, things like that. It didn’t really bother me. I didn’t even know what ‘Needs To Apply Himself’ meant until I finally asked my dad. Not that I ever got an answer from him. He was an accountant and a man of few words.

Usually when I asked my dad a question he would say, “Go ask your mother.” Sometimes he would say, “Why don’t you look it up?” although that was quite a few years later, around the time he bought that fancy, leather-bound twenty eight volume Encyclopedia Britannica, which also included a one volume index and a special volume of world maps. I learned a lot reading the world maps section. I could probably take you to the highest point in Albania without a guide if I ever get there.

This time, though, when I asked him what ‘Needs To Apply Himself’ meant he didn’t have time to reply with his customary answer because our next-door neighbor, Irv Kitzman was in the house trying to fix the refrigerator. My dad would always call Irv whenever anything in the house broke down. Not that Irv could fix anything. After about two hours my dad would call a repairman. He only called Irv because my mom would always say, “Let Irv fix it. He did such a nice job on the back door.” The back door was permanently jammed after Irv worked on it. This made my mom very happy. No one could walk through her kitchen from the back with muddy shoes and no one could break into the house through the rear. It was her version of a security system.

My dad didn’t particularly like Irv. I think he thought Irv was a loudmouth. So just before my dad was about to respond, a booming voice from the kitchen says, “It means you’re a lazy, good-for- nothing.” There was a moment of stunned silence. I looked to my dad for clarification. My dad looked to my mom for clarification. Nothing.

“So that’s what the teacher meant,” I thought. I had been insulted and I didn’t even know it. I slowly rose and walked to my room; not hurt, but surprised and a little confused; then suddenly I was elated.

I couldn’t believe that you could say real mean things to people, make them sound completely harmless and get away with it. What possibilities! I also developed a new respect for Metal Shop teachers. Mr. Nahikian was a lot smarter than I thought. I soon began studying my friends’ report cards and found that being able to say real mean things without people knowing it wasn’t restricted to Metal Shop teachers. My friend Kevin’s math teacher wrote ‘Must Learn to Focus’ which means Kevin has the attention span of a two year old. It seems all teachers had this incredible ability. This was going to be my career.

I did suffer a minor setback when I was about fifteen. My mom took me for a job interview at a fast food restaurant. My mom was always a little pushy and took the application from me and walked over to the counter to hand it to the manager. After a few seconds I overheard the manager say, “He needs to apply himself.”

“How could he make that judgment without even knowing me,” I muttered angrily. Then I saw him beckon me to the counter.

“Son, your mom was just telling me about you. I’m glad you are here in person,” he said. Aha! This opened up a whole new world for me: the double entendre.

During my subsequent thirty-four years as a teacher I had countless opportunities to perfect my language skills, always with the hope that, like Mr. Nahikian, perhaps my words might inspire.

Just as the music of the 50’s and 60’s, with their quaint and innocent lyrics have given way to the hard-edged music of today; similarly, the old-fashioned report card comments have given way to today’s tough talk. Students today routinely receive report card comments like ‘Gives New Meaning To The Word Lightheaded’ or ‘May End Up Working For McDonald’s If He’s Lucky’ or ‘His Jump Shot Would Improve If He Could Get Off The Ground.

Over the years I occasionally run into a former student. Last week I met a well-dressed man who recognized me and gave me a big warm hug.

“You turned my life around. You inspired me. You wrote on my report card ‘So Dim He Makes A Black Hole Look Bright.’ It was just the direction I needed. You are now looking at the Dean of the Astronomy Department at CalTech.”

“Sounds like you made a quantum leap,” I replied.

Teaching is such a rewarding profession.