An Unexpected Lesson

Edward Mooney, Jr.

©2017 Edward Mooney, Jr.

February, 2017

It was early in the morning on the first day of the new school year. I had come in before sunrise to set up my room; all was ready, except for one thing.  For decades my final chore before classes began was to place sticky plastic letters at the top of the whiteboard (or chalkboard early in my career), spelling out my name. I’d gently peel each letter off the sheet and carefully place it on a temporary line. M R . M O O N E Y.  Tradition held that each and every day I’d change the date right under my name, in chalk or with a board pen later on. 

That was just how I operated, but it was not to be that particular year.  As I started the annual chore, I paused. I realized something fundamental had changed. My twenty-five year tradition was about to change, by one simple letter. For the first time ever, I spelled out my name differently. The letters I peeled off spelled D R . M O O N E Y. I stepped back and looked it over. I was proud of all I had accomplished. I adjusted my necktie. I decided this momentous occasion demanded that I dress the part.

The awarding of the doctorate from Northeastern University in Boston was the result of years of hard work. There were vast expanses of reading, and rugged mountains of writing. There were jungles of group projects and desolate deserts of papers written by a tired man, all alone, in the middle of the cold night.  The university honored me by handing me that diploma. They had deemed me worthy. I stood up straighter.

Moments later my students started drifting into the room. I had known some from the year before, but most were new. The veterans didn’t notice the one-letter change on the board. They knew who I was; they were too busy discussing their new schedules to notice.

A new girl entered the classroom and secretly, with eyes quickly moving back and forth, scanned the front of the room. She let out an audible gasp as she read my name. She turned to her friend, standing close by.

“Oh, crap! We have another doctor guy!” She whispered, but loud enough for me to hear. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always had the ability to hear things around my classroom. Most of the time I find it quite helpful. Sometimes that gift is a pain. This time I was confounded. I wasn’t sure how to deal with her words. Her friend whispered back.

“So, how many times will you end up in the vice principal’s office this year, Laura?” She asked. Both of them were startled as I turned and walked toward them.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard your discussion,” I started. The first girl, the one I presumed was Laura, started to speak.

“Hey, it’s kind of private…” Laura trailed off.

“I know, but it does involve me, and I want us to start off on a positive note. I’m a little confused. What do you mean by that ‘doctor guy’?”

“Hey, listen, I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.” Laura moved toward a student desk and put her books down. She turned away. I took a deep breath.

“I know you didn’t. Laura…do you mind if I call you Laura?” I asked in a kind voice.

“I guess so. That’s my name.” The girl stared at the floor.

“It’s a good name.  I like it.” I responded as Laura slowly looked up.

“What? You like it?”

“Oh, yes. My youngest daughter’s name is Laura. I wouldn’t have picked that name if I didn’t like it.” I smiled.

“Yeah, picked it. Nobody forced you to give her that name, huh?” Laura seemed angry. Just then the first bell of the new school year rang. School was in session.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure where you’re going with this. Of course not. My wife and I agreed on the name ‘Laura.’ Did someone force a name on you?” I asked as Laura chuckled loudly. Her friend chimed in. Other students in the class noticed the tense conversation and turned to watch.

“I’ll say. I had a teacher two years ago who had that ‘doctor’ thing in front of his name. I spent too much time in the vice principal’s office that year, just because I’d slip and call him ‘mister’.”

“You got sent to the office for that?” I asked softly.

“Like I said – for not calling him ‘doctor’. So, to answer your question, I wonder how many times you’re going to send me to the office this year.” Laura’s voice was dripping with sarcasm as she once again turned away. I took a deep breath and looked at the front whiteboard.

“For calling me Mister Mooney instead of Doctor Mooney, zero.” I answered. She quickly looked up at me. As I looked at her face, covered with a confused look, the final lesson of my doctoral program sank in. I could not demand that people should call me “Doctor Mooney”. I looked at the clock. Exactly five minutes had passed in the school year. That’s how long I was puffed up about my new appellation.

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that.” Laura responded.

“I can understand why. I’ll have to prove it to you.” I turned to the entire class and got everyone’s attention.

“What is he doing?” Laura whispered to her friend.

“Hello, everybody, and good morning! Welcome to your new school year!” I moved to the front of the room and picked up a blue board pen. I wrote the letters ‘Mr.” under the title “Dr.” by my name.

“What are you doing?” Laura asked loudly.

“Introducing myself. I’m Mister Mooney.” I smiled.

“But what about the ‘doctor’ thing?” Laura pointed. I took a deep breath.

“Believe it or not, the school year is only about seven minutes old and you’ve already taught me something very valuable, Laura. Yes, I have a doctor’s degree, but before I earned the degree I was first a man who valued people, and I was someone who wanted people who could feel safe and accepted in his classroom. You see, when we feel safe, we learn. When we feel threatened, we shut down.”

“Well, I agree with you on that shutting down idea…” Laura huffed and nodded.

“You just taught me that if I demand that you call me by ‘doctor’, I’ll create a wall between us. I’ve been wondering about this, since I graduated, and now I see the answer.  If I demand a tribute, such as you using this title, it would be as if you gave me a one hundred dollar bill, but in board game money. It looks like a hundred dollars, but it’s not. It’s worthless. There’s no value to just using the word.”

The class chuckled at the image. Laura nodded.

“So, the rule is I’m ‘Mister Mooney’ – all of you are used to that idea – and ‘Doctor Mooney’ only if you want to use that title. No one will force you. Is that a deal?” I smiled at Laura.

“Better than the deal I got two years ago, so sure.” Laura’s tone softened.

“Well, then, let’s get on with what we need to do today!” I said as I walked over to the poster with the classroom rules listed on them. I discussed each one, then went around the room and had each student introduce themselves.

“My name’s Adam, Mister Mooney.” One boy said. He looked surprised. “I mean Doctor Mooney…” I shook my head.

“Either one works in here, so not to worry.” I responded as I looked at the clock.

“It seems I’m about a minute short here. But I think I covered everything.” I shrugged.

“Not quite. You missed something.” Laura answered as she stood up and walked to the front of the room. I was confused. She picked up the eraser to the whiteboard. She erased the “Mr.” I had written below the “Dr.” sticky letters.

“Now things look right, Doctor Mooney.” Laura smiled.

The bell rang. Much had been learned that day.

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THE END