Call me coach!

Though I insist on "Patrick" from adults, a lot of folks call me "Mr. Gross," anyway. Certainly we are in the habit as professionals of referring to each other with those formal titles in the third person, and also in the second person when in front of students.

And, it made me uncomfortable at first, but a lot of folks (adults) at school call me "Boss," affectionately. I guess I'm used to that now, and it's OK, because, well, I am the boss.

I was about 24 when I first started teaching high school , and I looked young. Some of the students looked older than me, in fact. Even after I grew the beard.

It was a Catholic school with a long, strong, and proud tradition of excellence in athletics. I was the band director. In fact, I founded the marching band at the school. I know I earned the respect of my band students quickly, but I know a few of the seniors had a hard time calling me "Mr. Gross." First, I guess it just sounded wrong to them. (We don't get to choose our surnames. While Gross means "large," or "great" in German, in English it doesn't sound quite as complimentary). Second, as I said, I didn't seem much older than them. I remember the day my bass player raised his hand to get my attention. He didn't want to call me "Mr. Gross." He knew I would not accept my first name as an address from students (though, that was kind of hip in those days).

"Uh, hey, uh...(he found his word)...Coach?"

Like I said, it was a sports-oriented school.

That worked. It fit. It stuck. I was "coach" from then on. I was the band coach. I was happy to answer to "Coach," which I found respectful, descriptive, and complimentary. When I left that school to move on with my career, the kids gave me a wool stadium blanket that said "De La Salle Spartans" on one corner and "Coach" on the other. And I've proudly answered to the moniker ever since.

I'm not a coach of musicians anymore, at least not as my day job. Now, I'm a coach of teachers. A boss of teachers, a teacher of teachers, and a coach of teachers.

"Coach," to me, is even better than "teacher" not because of the athletic connotation but because it implies a personalized, encouraging approach. Good coaching is good teaching, and good teaching is often coaching.

"Boss," just means, "the person in charge." So, my job description says I'm a boss of teachers, and a coach of teachers. I'm OK with that. But I know which is more important.

Stop calling me "boss." Call me "coach!"

Packing

My new plan is to simply sneak away in the middle of the night.

In April, we shipped 25 boxes full of what we at that time thought we would need and want in Morocco, in August.  

Now, it's time for the rest of the stuff.  We have four family members so that will make 8 checked bags total.  (We need to buy some suitcases.  Big ones.)  I'm not really thinking about that yet.

No, it's the rest of it.  There are two categories for the non-suitcase bound items:

1)  Stuff that we will sell in a garage sale.

2)  Stuff that we will put into storage.

Those are the two categories, and we have assigned a room to each.  Fine, in theory.  Now, then, there is the basement.

Item:  two-inch thick file of receipts from 2004.  Maybe a few were tax deductions, I don't know.  Store it?  Trash it?  What about personal/financial information...better shred it.  That is a lot of shredding.  And, along with so many similar files, a lot of space in a storage unit.  I don't want to deal with it, I'll put it in this growing pile for "later."

Item:  My tassel from college graduation.  I'm too old to put it on my rear-view mirror.  Besides, it's pink.  That's what happens when your undergraduate major is music.  Save it.  Sentimental value.  Yeah, but it has mold on in from storing it in a box in the basement.  What if the mold spreads to other stuff?  Just throw it away.  Well, I'll think about it.  I'll put it in this growing pile for "later."

Item:  1000 piece puzzle, still in shrink wrap, a memorial skyline photo of the 1997 "handover" change of government in Hong Kong.  We were there for that.  (I used to have a tee shirt, too).  The puzzle is a limited edition of 10,000.  Smells a little musty.  Save it?  Finally take it out of the box and put it together?  Sell it on E-bay?  Who knows, maybe it is worth something.  Then again, I doubt it.

I think you get the idea.  There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of "items."  Each requires more thought than I want to give it.

After we are through, it will feel good.  A few nostalgic visits to times gone by, and a profound liberation (remember--it's...ONLY...stuff...); less stuff = good!

Still, maybe I'll just sneak away from it all in the middle of the night.