- Tales from the Trough: IceHogs rebound with four straight wins
- Clean water groups, small business owners, community leaders celebrate Clean Water Act
- Police investigate death of 71-year-old man who was struck in October while riding in his wheelchair
- Woman gets 10 years for 2013 involuntary manslaughter
- Secretary of State Police to target abuse of disability parking on Black Friday
- Illinois Commerce Commission approves 500-mile direct-current electric wind power line
- Meet John Doe: Rockford could benefit from the new Digital Manufacturing and Design Innovation Institute in Chicago
- Tech-Friendly: Surface Pro 3 ad comparing it to MacBook Air is a joke
- Chicago restaurateur Billy Lawless to introduce Obama during immigration speech in Chicago
- Travel Wisconsin Snow Conditions Report assists snow seekers
To the Editor: What kind of teacher could be a mentor?
Forty years ago, I had a black driver’s ed teacher named Mr. Caldwell, and a white one whose name I can’t remember. Both were top-notch and well respected and liked. But Caldwell impressed me—e.g., when he scolded us boys that it was high time we wore a wallet, anyway.
Or so I thought. I know now, all these politically-correct decades later, he couldn’t possibly have had a positive impact on me: I’m white! Nor, for the same reason, could I ever have really learned much from him: he was black! Nor could he have helped me with my lack-of-self-confidence issues, which I now know white kids don’t suffer from anyway.
Caldwell did exude self-confidence. He was trim, erect, dapper, polite, well groomed and well spoken. But he couldn’t possibly have mentored me in any way, even just by example, because, although I didn’t understand this all correctly way back then, he and I were worlds—or races—apart. Oil and water.
But I assure you, if I, or anyone else, had looked up to him, it would not have been for his salary, but rather only for his unique personhood. That’s something else we were benighted about in olden times: no one was required, or even expected, to carry his whole race, or to bog it down, through a heightened, or an absent, sense of responsibility; to reach down to someone who’s not even reaching up; to “help” by making school less and less what it’s supposed to be.
From the June 23-29, 2010 issue