Mr. Feeny Would Be Proud

Let me just say that I thoroughly enjoy having this blog; however, let me also say that sometimes it is hard to post as often as I would like. Besides coaching baseball, grading papers, and writing papers for my master’s degree, I think inherited my dad’s trait of getting the most uncontrollable desire to close my eyes if I look at any kind of screen for more than two minutes. For Pete’s sake, I can never finish an episode of my favorite soap without falling asleep.

Anyways, I tend to ramble at the beginning of my posts, so I am sorry about that. I really wanted to talk about my job. I know. It sounds boring, but bear with me. With the ever-increasing amount of pressure and responsibilities placed upon teachers, it is easy to lose sight of why I entered the job in the first place. I would assume this is true of most jobs, but I will just speak for myself. I entered my profession first and foremost to help kids learn and become better people. I entered the profession to teach the academic content of course, but I also want to cultivate within students some things that cannot be measured on a standardized test.

Mr. Feeny was the epitome of teacherness when I was growing up. You remember; he’s the guy from Boy Meets World, Cory’s teacher, the wise old sage who could get you out of any jam. He was the guy that went the extra mile. He was the guy that made you feel special. He was the guy that taught you about history and English, but more importantly, he taught you about life and living up to your potential. Now, I pride myself on having an awesome relationship with all of my students. Trust, compassion, mutual respect, the whole shebang. There has been one thing lacking.

Until this week, I didn’t have a Mr. Feeny moment. I couldn’t say that my guidance had transcended the classroom to really influence a student’s life for the better. At least, I hadn’t seen it explicitly. However, I was able to do something this week that made me feel that putting up with all the extra “stuff” we have to do was worth it. This may be anti-climactic, but obviously I cannot go into specifics on how I was able to help this kid, but I can tell you it was awesome to have the student come up to me first thing in the morning and, without any hesitance, hug me and say, “Thank you, Mr. Massengale.”


By the way, I don’t watch soap operas. Cartoons, yes. Soaps, no.


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