Remembering the Mimeograph

One of my first memories of teaching has to be the smell of the mimeograph machine in the teachers' lounge. If you are young enough that you don't remember anything before photocopiers, mimeographs were what teachers used to make copies back in the day.

You made a master by handwriting or typing on a special combination of paper types. By the way, I do mean typing, not word processing. We were using old-style typewriters and any mistake was a real pain to correct. Then, you removed a sheet from the master that had your original turned into purple on the paper. You attached that sheet to the drum on the mimeograph machine, loaded in a stack of blank paper, and started turning the handle. If your school had a fancier machine, it turned itself with a motor. As the drum made contact with each sheet of blank paper being fed through, the machine transferred an image to the paper. A little of your master wore off with each sheet; so, masters wouldn't make copies forever. The smell came from the fluid in that gallon container in the picture, and you could smell it far down the hall whenever someone was making copies. Here's a YouTube video showing a mimeograph machine in action. They were loud!

Do I miss mimeographs? No, not at all. I don't even miss photocopiers now that I've moved to almost-paperless teaching. Mimeographs do remind me, though, of a very different day of teaching the first time I was in the classroom. No photocopiers, no word processors, no spreadsheets, no cell phones, and no Internet! The last one seems to be the one that amazes my Net Generation students the most. We taught without any Internet support. All we had where our textbooks, the supplemental materials that came with them, and any resources we had collected on our shelves or in our filing cabinets. We were all little teaching islands in our own classrooms.

Teaching 25 Years

(image from http://www.hesilir.gr/)

This month marks my silver anniversary of teaching. 25 years ago, I took my first teaching job. I decided late in my pre-med studies in college that I didn't want to go to med school, and I really didn't have a plan B. I tried working as a youth director in a Baptist church for awhile, but quickly realized I didn't like being a professional Christian. My parents were both educators, and I had often wondered if teaching was in my blood, too. So, when my church job was cut to part time, I went looking for jobs as a substitute to give teaching a try. The first school I walked into, a small private school in Greenville, Mississippi, hired me on the spot. Their junior high math teacher had just walked out, and I took over that class when spring semester started.

I learned over that first semester that I didn't like junior high, I didn't like math, but I really liked teaching. I thought I had found my niche, and 25 years later, it's clear that I had. I am my teacher. It's one of the main ways I define myself. I do it naturally, and it brings me great joy. There's nothing quite like those times in my classroom with my students in which we're all engaged in true learning.

I'm not sure yet how I'm going to celebrate this silver anniversary, but I really do want to mark this milestone. I may be blogging over the next semester about key moments in teaching across the last 25 years. (It's funny--the first thing I think of is the mimeograph machine!) I find myself being reflective and a little nostalgic as I think of a quarter century of teaching. That's a long time doing a really valuable job!