My classroom is a compilation of over a decade of memories, experiences and stuff.
I have things that were given to me long before I was a teacher, things given to me as I became a teacher, and still other things given to me as I am presently a teacher. I've collected items myself from garage sales, yard sales, stores, and things around the house. I have even gathered things from my late mother's house...things which I use on an almost daily basis.
One of the "mother" things I have is a hole-punch. This isn't an ordinary hole-punch though. It is circa 1932. It's made of steel, through and through. It has some weight to it. It is a three-hole punch and is adjustable. It boasts a squeak as one pushes down on the lever that engages the "hole-making mechanisms". It has survived 82 years on this earth and undoubtedly has seen some incredible papers passing through it's rounded "teeth". My mother was a chemist and a university professor. She was a brilliant woman who came over from Germany during WWII. She built a life for herself complete with a family, a career, and a purpose.
The hole-punch sits quietly in my desk most of the year. It makes an appearance every so often as I need it. It's familiar sound reminds me of my mother; it's strength and resilience echoes her personality. The quiet life of the hole-punch comes to an abrupt halt during State Report time. The kids get a good look at it and often question, at first, what it is. Once they know they watch as I use it. They tilt their heads, squint their eyes, and usually let out a "hmmm...that's cool". They become fascinated by its simplicity, captured by it's structure, and enthralled by how it works...without batteries, without a plug, without a switch. Over time I allow them to use it on their own. I begin to hear the squeak as kids are putting together their State Binders. They take care of the hole-punch; they respect it; maybe for what it is...maybe for who it represents to me, or maybe for the simple fact that it allows them to work with a tool that has been around for more than eight times their lifespan.
For whatever reason the hole-punch, as I work through the years as a teacher, will undoubtedly hold more than a memory of my mother...it will carry the memories of my career as a teacher.
Mr. Casten
May 9, 2014
Copyrighted material of Michael C. Casten
