Penn State Aftermath

~Anthony Constantino

It is no secret that Penn State has had the worst scandal in the history of college sports take place on its campus. This scandal has engulfed a legendary head coach, a college campus, and the surrounding community. The monster that is Jerry Sandusky will rightfully spend his remaining years in a jail cell for the crimes he committed at the college. In the wake of Sandusky's sex abuse scandal, there are many questions to ask, and many answers we may not want to hear.

What perplexes me about this story is that most news outlets are reporting on what this scandal will do to Penn State football, or what ripples will be felt by the rest of college football. There is almost no discussion about the victims of these horrendous crimes committed by Jerry Sandusky. There are no sanctions that can heal the victims and help them deal with the emotional damage done to them by Sandusky. While I was waiting to see just what the NCAA would do to Penn State, I couldn't help but think that the sanctions were somewhat of an appraisal. The NCAA was ruling on the value of the innocence of children. That is really what Sandusky took from these vitctims. In my eyes no price was too steep for Penn State to pay.

The first domino fell as the NCAA brought the hammer down on Penn State. The public didn't need to wonder very long about what punishment was in store for the Nittany Lions. Penn State was fined 60 million dollars as well as banned from postseason play for the next four seasons. They also face a significant reduction in scholarships with 10 initial scholarships lost and 20 total scholarships each season for the next four years. To make matters worse, all current players enrolled at Penn State are allowed to transfer immediately without penalty. However, what may hurt Nittany Lions fans and alumni the most is that their beloved coach Joe Paterno, will have all his wins from 1998-2011 vacated. This means the most winningest college football coach is no longer Joe Paterno. His win total dropped from 409 to 298. This scandal tarnished his legacy at Penn State, and now NCAA sanctions will drastically reduce his legacy.

Although he reported Jerry Sandusky to his Athletic Director, Tim Curley, Paterno did not do enough. In fact after Sandusky was investigated, Paterno still allowed Sandusky access to the Penn State athletic facilities. This would be an avenue for Sandusky to continue molesting children. Simply put, that cannot be allowed. I have to conclude that Paterno was an enabler to child sex abuse. If Paterno cared so much for his former assistant, he should have tried to get him help. Instead the people sitting in the highest chairs at Penn State, those who are given the responsibility to protect the college from issues such as this, chose to cover up the crimes and protect their public image. To make matters worse, they continued to let innocent children become victims of Jerry Sandusky under their reign.

Joe Paterno accomplished many great things while always pushing academics alongside athletics at Penn State. His "great experiment" was an initiative to recruit great athletes that also made the grades in the classroom. Paterno wanted his players to become better players, people, and upstanding citizens in society. After their time at Penn State "JoePa" hoped each and every player would leave with a college degree. Penn State was praised for how great it was academically and athletically for decades. Unfortunately, the higher a program is built up, the further they must fall when tragic missteps occur. In this case Joe Paterno was an enabler to Sandusky sexually assaulting children.

Enabling child abuse in any form is almost as bad as committing the crime itself. One of our primary goals in society is to protect our children and preserve their innocence. Joe Paterno was a man of value who had to know this. Simply saying, "Joe Paterno should have done better, shame on you Penn State." is not enough. The term institutional control comes to my mind. Penn State grossly fell short in this department. The death of Joe Paterno and the firing/resigning of every person in power at Penn State does not suffice as punishment.

Penn State University must deal with some hard times after such a disgusting scandal took place on their campus. In my opinion Penn State received a punishment worse than the "death penalty", and rightfully so. These sanctions are more accurately described as a "slow death penalty". As severe as the punishments are that were levied against Penn State, they will most certainly change the culture at that university, and the university needs that change desperately.

Stop Caring So Much About What People Think

~Mike Wolcott

      Several weeks ago I attended the Allentown Art Festival with my former girlfriend, Lindsay. I am not a connoisseur of art by any stretch of the imagination, but I did enjoy walking around, observing people, and looking at some paintings. One of the stands at the festival was selling really cool looking walking sticks. These things were badass; they had antlers on the top and faces carved into the front. I wanted to buy one but realized it didn’t make any practical sense. For a moment I wished I had a torn ACL.

       After an hour or so of walking around, Lindsay and I ordered two chicken gyros. We sat down on a curb to enjoy them (I know how to treat a lady!), and began to observe people as they walked by. Lindsay started chuckling at an old man walking by with a smile on his face, a goofy looking hat, high socks, and a hoodie tied around his waist. Lindsay found him amusing and made fun of him, but I immediately felt a sense of respect for this man. He seemed relaxed and was having a good time. He clearly did not give a fuck about what people thought about him.

       I observed many more people as they walked by that day. There was no shortage of "Jersey Shore" looking guys with tattoos and slick hair walking around with a contrived strut. There was also no shortage of chicks with fake tans and makeup laden faces wearing $80 jeans. These guys and gals obviously cared immensely about how they were perceived by others and had chosen to conform to mainstream society. As I observed these folks I kept thinking about the happy man with the hoodie wrapped around his waist and the goofy hat. This guy had it right; he simply didn’t give a fuck.

       Why do we care so much about what people think? My father always taught me that trying to impress others is futile. Most people are more concerned with the pimples on their own face than they are with anything concerning anyone else. I can’t remember the last time I said, "Wow that guy drives a really nice car, I’m so impressed, I wish I was his friend," or "Wow that guy shot an 82 at Elma Meadows golf course, I really wish I could be more like him!" The truth is that most people are so wrapped up in themselves that they couldn't really care less about you. Stop trying to impress them and stop concerning yourself with what they think.

       Caring less about what people think of you is incredibly liberating. For example, when I first started going to the gym I was embarrassed to do certain workouts because of how weak I would look. Eventually I realized that it was time to stop concerning myself with others. Nowadays, all my focus goes into getting the best workout possible for myself. I couldn't care less about what the the 5’8 200lb guy next to me with no neck thinks. He’s probably not going to remember me two minutes later and if he did, so what?

        With all this said, at the end of the day we are only human, and it’s natural to seek some level validation from others. Many of us don’t have the benefit of being able to dress like the old man from the Art Festival (if we want to attract the opposite sex). I understand all this, but a major problem arises when we allow other people to dictate our actions or define who we are. Why should we let the fear of what other people think determine who we date, where we work, what music we listen to, and what clothes we wear? Stop conforming, and stop trying to impress other people. Instead, define yourself, and take pride in being a person that YOU are happy with. Stop caring so much about what people think.

Teaching Odyssey

Written by Guest Contributor:  Justin Moretta

      

      

       I am an unemployed teacher. I graduated in May of 2011 with a master’s degree in education. Acquiring said master’s degree cost my wife and me approximately $30,000. This monetary sum is significant. However, the true cost of my pursuit of a teaching job is the hours I’ve spent preparing and the emotional rollercoaster I have been on for the past year.

       My preparation to become an educator included hours of studying educational theories from Horace Mann to Spencer Kagan. I learned about differentiation, scaffolding, AYP, formative assessment, Bloom’s taxonomy, benchmarks, rubrics, and countless other educational buzzwords that would allow me to speak the language of teachers and administrators. Experienced teachers taught me important lessons about things like backward planning and classroom management. I was made aware of terrifying statistics about child abuse, drug abuse, and teenage (and pre-teen) pregnancy. The classes were often boring, repetitive, and lacking in pragmatism. The classes that were useful and/or interesting were just frequent enough to keep me engaged.

       Those few gems, some interesting and kind classmates, and my monetary commitment kept me enrolled and engaged long enough to reach my next challenge, student teaching. The first level of student teaching is mostly observation. Like most people, I hadn’t been in a high school class since I was a high school student. I immediately began to identify with the students and it took some time and effort to look at the classroom with the perspective of a teacher. With that new perspective I saw how difficult it was to engage 30 teenagers in a lesson. Thanks to a wonderful cooperating teacher, I also saw that it was possible, and I knew that it was a challenge I wanted to tackle.

       The night before I had to teach my first lesson I kept imagining all the nightmare scenarios that might play out. I was sure the kids would recognize me as a fraud. That they either would just ignore me completely, or worse, that they would attack me and make me look like an ass. The first 20 minutes or so were a blur. Then, my heartbeat slowed a bit and I realized things were actually going according to plan. The kids were listening and participating. I had somehow managed to keep the panic out of my voice and limited the amount of sweat on my brow. I wasn’t any Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, but the kids enjoyed the lesson. What’s more, I enjoyed the lesson and I knew that I wanted to do it again.

       The next step in the process was full-time student teaching. I would be in charge of several classes for a longer period of time. My time would be split between a high school and a middle school, approximately 6 weeks at each. The high school assignment was first, and I was sent to a misery factory. Everyone in the place was depressed. The teachers, the administrators, and especially the students entered the building everyday as if it was the first day of a life sentence. I was assigned two 11 th grade classes and one 10th. They were all a struggle to work with, but one 11th grade class was nearly impossible. The cooperating teacher informed me that it was the worst behaved class she had experienced in 25 years of teaching. She told me that I would be allowed to observe her teaching the class for a week and then take over on the following Monday. After two days she literally threw her hands up and informed me that I would be taking over the next day. On my first day with this class, in response to some request for quiet or attention, a student told asked me, "Who the fuck are you? You aren’t my teacher. Why would I listen to you?" My response was something about the fact that I would be his teacher for the next few weeks and that he had better pay attention or his grade would suffer. He laughed and walked out. After the class I asked the cooperating teacher if I should have written him up and/or sent him to the office. She informed me that the administration frowned on issues like that being brought to their attention and that it was better handled inside the classroom. She did not offer any suggestions on how to handle the situation in the classroom.

       Eventually things settled down a bit. I was able to get the students to listen and participate in lessons and started to make some progress. That’s not to say that there weren’t still issues. During a reading of "Coming of Age in Mississippi", just as the narrator is telling of the beatings she received at the hands of segregationists, a student stood up in class, declared, "I have to fart" and then let go an emphatic fart for all the world to hear.

       Just as I had learned how to deal with these distractions and get the classes back on task it was time to leave and move on to my second student teaching experience. This time I was placed in a small, affluent middle school. I was given two 7th and two 8th grade classes to work with. Upon entering the classroom for the first time I was horrified to see the students hovering around the teacher’s desk and in many cases literally clinging to her. The students loved her and she ate it up. She was far too permissive and creepily involved in their social lives. She knew who everyone was "dating" and she readily dispensed relationship advice. She also did altruistic things for the kids. For instance, she brought in a nutritious lunch everyday for one student whose parents were either unable or unwilling to provide it. Anyway, this all added up to a great love affair between the students and the teacher. I was there to replace the teacher, at least for six weeks. It did not go well. I battled the best I could for six weeks and, with generous scoring, may have earned a draw.

       During this time I was applying for jobs all over the place. I was living on Long Island and applying there. I was also applying for positions around Boston and Buffalo. The only real interview I was able to land was at a suburban Buffalo school. I went in brimming with confidence, and considering it was my first teaching interview I thought it went very well. The principal went so far as to tell me he had a number of candidates to interview, but I had set the bar very high. I left feeling certain that I would be brought back for the second round of interviews. I was not brought back. The principal informed me that I had given a great interview, but others had given equally good interviews and also brought years of experience to the table.

       Those words would become a haunting refrain throughout my search to land a teaching job. I have lost out on jobs in three other school districts because I lack classroom experience. One assistant principal went so far as to tell me she wanted to hire me, but the principal felt compelled to go with someone who had experience at the grade level.

       Each of those disappointments has been a bitter pill to swallow, but the job that I allowed to slip through my fingers is the one that truly plagues my mind. The initial interview was a joy. I connected with the department chair, and we clearly had a rapport. I was sure I would be asked back, and this time I was correct. The second round of interviews consisted of delivering two mini lessons to a group of students and staff who would act as the "class". Without going into details about why, my lessons flopped. I had worked hard on the plans; I was excited and confident heading into the classroom, and I almost immediately realized that things weren’t going well. The students weren’t responding the way I hoped. The teachers in the room looked bored and/or disappointed. I did my best to add energy and enthusiasm to the room, but nothing seemed to work. By this time I had taught hundreds of class sessions, (in the fall I was hired as a long-term substitute and had my own class for 4 months) and I had never felt so lost in front of a class.

       After the lessons the teachers and the students asked me questions about the lesson and how I felt it went. I tried to put a positive spin on it. I pointed out the highlights of the lessons and tried to convey how strong I felt my lesson plans were. What I wanted to do was to explain to them that I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but that I really was a good teacher. That this was a fluke. That every classroom evaluation I had ever been given was overwhelmingly positive, and that if they gave me my own class they would really see what I could do. Of course I couldn’t say those things. I was left knowing that I had blown it.

       For the next two days I waited around for the ax to fall. I knew it had not gone well, but I would allow myself to hope that others had failed as well. Maybe they would see my passion for the job and my skill at planning and decide they had to have me. Maybe my initial interview went well enough that it would carry me through. I would vacillate between these hopes and the certainty that I had failed. It was an agonizing wait.

       Finally, the email came and I was informed that they would not be bringing me back for the final round. All the emotions that had built up over the months of pursuing a position and especially the last two days of waiting exploded in my head and I was lost. I blanked out for a few minutes. My wife and my dog were there trying to comfort me, but it was of no use. I walked away from them and once I was alone I just collapsed. To get so close to something I had worked so hard for and to let it slip through my fingers was too much to bear at that moment. I felt like my brain was on fire and I could not control my emotions. It was the most visceral experience of my life.

       I have not fully recovered. I replay the lesson all the time. I think about all the things I could have done differently. I think about how different my life could be if I had landed that job. In my mind, everything would be perfect if I had just gotten that job.

       I would like to tell you that my resolve has been hardened by these rejections, and that I won’t give up on my dream. However, I don’t know if I can continue down this path. I don’t know if my ego, my wallet, and my sanity can take much more of this. I have written the happy ending to this story in my mind a thousand times. Reality, however, keeps getting in the way.