Being Chill

I'm often described as a "chill" teacher by my students.  I've been pondering this label, and I've made at least one small link to how this "chillness" was born.

Back in my high school in rural Ontario one could get time off just by saying, or people even thinking, that you were hunting.  There were always a few days during duck and/or deer season where it was acceptable to be away.  "He's hunting" is pretty much all you'd have to tell the teacher; not even a note was required.  There were too many kids away for them to chase us all down.

French was not a hunter, but he knew his buds would cover for him.  Pancake let all the teachers know that French was "hunting" and he was gold.  I saw right away that French was ditching school, so I snuck out midweek to see what he was up too.  He was in his shed.  There was a small fire going to push back the October cold.  French was on his bunk reading East of Eden.  French held up a finger, read a few more lines, took a drag from his cigarette and handed me a beer.

I asked him "Whatcha reading?"  He said "Steinbeck"  He'd started reading it the previous week while on detention outside the VPs office.  The previous detainee had left in on a table.  French got hooked once the character Cathy was introduced: "This Cathy girl scares the living shit outta me."   French skipped because there was an open excuse, and a chance for him to be alone and just read, play some guitar, and listen to some tunes.

I always remember this moment, and chill, prior to chastising skippers.